


Deadly Belladonna

by AppoApples



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Reimagined Prologue, Time Travel, Two Harry's, Younger with Luna and the older Harry with Bellatrix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppoApples/pseuds/AppoApples
Summary: Forty-nine year old Harry was rather content with his life, but when his lover, Andromeda finds a way to rewrite the war, well, let’s just say that the Dark Lord was not expecting to deal with two Harry Potter’s and the loss of his favourite lieutenant. Sirius Black might not be the only Black with a cleared name and dark past. Meanwhile, for the Triwizard Champion, things might start to get a bit brighter. Time Travel, Two Potters.[Lord Harry Black/Bellatrix Black] [Younger Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood]
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter
Comments: 51
Kudos: 262





	1. Your Worst Nightmare

* * *

JacobApples Back?: Sorta, this will be like _What We Lost_ meets _Disorder of the Phoenix_ and the post-Battle of Hogwarts I had to come up with for _When the Dragon Speaks to the Moon_. Also, I like to think that I have improved a lot in the last year where I topped 800,000 words in published new material. 

* * *

UPDATES: This story will likely be finished before _Laughing all the Way to London_ because I am waiting for the next Fantastic Beasts movie for that one. Still more devoted to my Star Wars fics, but this plot has a lot of things I have yet to fully explore in the HP world. You can all thank Black Phoenix, Nauze, and the insanity of the stress I’m under for this story :D

* * *

Rating: T/M, possible fade out intimacy, no smut, book levels of violence.

Dyslexia: Surprise! I still have it ;D

Chapter 1 - Your Worst Nightmare

Harry Potter, age forty-nine, was smiling as he entered his home.

He had just spent the day babysitting his first granddaughter, Magnolia Tonks Shacklebolt. Teddy had chosen to take his wife’s name, first because Teddy didn’t have much attachment to the name Lupin and second because Sonya Kingsley Shacklebolt was the man of the house in all but equipment.

Magnolia was four months old and had fully captured Harry’s heart, making a part of him regret that he hadn’t had more children aside from Teddy and the twins, Rose and James.

However, his smile instantly fell away as he entered the main room and heard the distinct sound of muffled crying.

Harry rushed to Andromeda’s side, his partner in all things, where she was curled around herself on the sofa.

Her arms instantly went around him as he reached for her. Kissing her head, he began to rub her back, “Shhh, Andromeda, shhh, what’s wrong? What happened?”

She pushed back from him, anger overtaking her beautiful face as she wiped the tears back with a harsh gesture. Andromeda’s words were thick with emotions and an undercurrent of rage, “I brewed the cure to the Longbottoms.”

Harry blinked at her, “Andromeda… that’s wonderful, why-”

“It worked!” Andromeda exclaimed, standing to her feet and began to pace the hall, “It worked, Harry!”

Confusion overcame him as he remained where he was watching her and asked slowly, “Why is this a bad thing?”

Andromeda spun on him, her hair wild around her shoulders. Her dress was a rich burgundy she had donned to enter the Wizarding World, “ _It worked_ . The Longbottoms came back to themselves, they still remembered, there is still much emotionally they need to recover from but the _physical_ scars caused by the torture and trauma were healed. The rest is up to them and what the family can do for them.”

“That is excellent,” Harry said, “But then why-”

“Because it would have worked for her too!” Andromeda nearly screamed at him.

He went still and asked, “For your sister?”

Fresh tears spilled from Andromeda’s dark eyes, “It’s how I knew what needed to be fixed. Harry… what our mother did to us, to Bella… she was never the most stable person, but she wasn’t always broken. Bella adored Sirius once, did you know that? I’m not sure Siri remembered, he was so young then. But Bella was… caring, overachieving, curious about everything, and brilliant.”

Harry had heard things about Bellatrix from both Narcissa and Andromeda over the years, but something felt different in this moment, so he said nothing to interrupt as she revealed things he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“She was, however, absurdly powerful, to such a degree that her magic sometimes overwhelmed her. After one of our mother’s last ‘punishments’, our father finally, _finally_ stepped in. But it was too late, there was nothing the healers could do for her, and Bella who was once such a happy and wild spirit, became prone to violent outbursts and surges of accidental magic that could shake the foundation of the house.” She looked at him, “Do you know what an Obscurial is?”

He nodded, “It comes from suppressing one's magic, no?”

“In children, yes, but Bella wasn’t little, she was sixteen, and her magic… it was like she became the obscurial. My father found an old family relic, two bracelets, one he gave to me and the other he gave to her. I’m not sure what their original purpose was, but what they did was create a bound between magical beings. For the one, she was unable to use her magic except with my conscious permission, which I could give with nary a thought, to my own bracelet. It kept us connected, it doubled our powers and it didn’t suppress her magic as long as I used mine. She could feel it whenever I used magic, you see.”

Harry tilted his head, “That’s actually rather brilliant. But why didn’t you use them in the war?”

A look of shame came over her face, “She was older than me, and she stayed close to home through our and my school years. It worked well through those years. But her husband…” Andromeda sighed, “there was nothing any of us could have done short of murdering Rodolphus, which I sincerely regretted doing.”

“He took the bracelet off her,” Harry guessed.

Andromeda sighed and came back to sit beside him, “No, I did.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Because she couldn’t defend herself without my permission, and because…” Andromeda touched her stomach, “I was pregnant with Nymphadora. I was going to move to the muggle world and Bella… I gave my bracelet to Narcissa. But Bella saw it as a betrayal. She stopped Narcissa from wearing it and forced Narcissa to remove hers as well. And well, I suppose you know the rest of my sister’s story.”

Harry reached out to hold her hand, “You think this potion could have made a difference?”

Andromeda looked up at him, “I don’t think my sister was imperioused or manipulated to do the things she did. Nor do I think she didn’t believe in Pureblood fanaticism. But my sister wasn’t a sadist, she wasn’t cruel for cruelty’s sake. I remember how much she used to love me and Narcissa. I remember the hours she would spend playing on the floor with Siri and Reggie when no one, myself and our mothers included, wanted anything to do with them.”

After having spent the day with his granddaughter in his arms, Harry felt his expression soften, he squeezed Andromeda’s hands, “I’m so sorry, Andromeda.”

She closed her dark eyes, “My mother and her husband tortured her long before Voldemort got his hands on her. And I-” she looked off into the distance, “I left her. Abandoned her.” She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment and two black metal bracelets, “But if I had stayed… she could have had a chance.”

Harry’s hand covered hers over the recipe to the cure and two bracelets.

“What did you name it?” he asked softly, resting his forehead against hers.

She opened her eyes, their closeness making the eye contact incredibly intimate.

“The Belladonna Cure.”

“The main ingredient?” he asked, wondering if it was the herb itself she had used even as he lowered her lips to hers.

“Deadly Nightshade,” Andromeda spoke the words over his lips before closing the space between them.

Harry would never not love this woman, this witch who had walked through the darkness with to find a life worth living.

When they pulled back, she blinked up at him, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Andromeda?”

“Harry,” she said thickly, “I know that this is unforgivable, but I know you will find happiness again.”

Confusion swept over him as her hands closed over his, the metal rings going so cold in his hands they burned.

And in a flood of magic, Harry watched the light dissipate from her eyes as the metal in their hands spread ice temperatures into his hands, through his bones, filling him as if he had been dropped into a vat of liquid nitrogen.

And his entire world and vision went completely black.

When his eyes finally opened.

It was night, he was outside, there were torches, and lots and lots of people.

Harry blinked.

He was no longer in his house.

He was pretty sure he had just seen the love of his life die, and he wasn’t entirely certain that he hadn’t died either.

Where was he?

Shaking his head, he took in a breath and tried to look around him, taking stock.

The first person he noticed was Luna.

Why were they sitting on bleachers with a bunch of students? 

Wasn’t it summer?

Were they on the Hogwarts ground?

“Luna?” he croaked.

Luna turned and Harry startled so hard he jerked and nearly dropped the paper and two metal bands in his hands.

“Harry?” she asked.

Harry could only gawk.

It was definitely Luna. She had to be Luna Lovegood.

Only…

Only she looked about twelve.

Harry stood, and to his horror, he finally registered what he was before them all.

A hedgerow.

More specifically, the maze.

Andromeda’s words came back to him.

_I know that this is unforgivable, but I know you will find happiness again._

And that odd conversation they had had last night.

_If you could go back, if you could save Sirius and face Voldemort as an adult, fight the war as you are now, would you?_

Harry Potter had one too many crazy things happen to him to doubt the reality in front of him.

Even if he was praying that he was dreaming rather than Andromeda finding some way of time travelling.

Cursing under his breath, he placed the bracelets in his breast pocket and pulled his wand.

He tapped the recipe of the Belladonna Cure in his hand to duplicate it. He pocketed one and passed a second one to Luna.

Luna took it, her eyes scanning and her brows shouting up, and Harry said, “Don’t lose that, Ms. Lovegood, it could save many lives one day.”

Then he was making his way down the bleachers. 

His heart hurt as his eyes scanned over the familiar figures.

Many hadn’t survived the war.

Many, _many,_ more hadn’t followed the price to be paid in the aftermath.

The Lost Generations.

Harry spotted Neville Longbottom, he still had his baby-face and looked bored as stone as he waited with the crowd that was gossiping with everyone but him. 

Luckily for Harry, he was sitting at the end of a row.

Harry knelt so they were at eye level, “Neville?”

The young boy startled, “Hello? Who are you?”

Harry smiled tightly and handed the boy a copy of the Belladonna Cure to him. “I’m a DADA professor,” Harry answered before lowering his voice to keep the other kids from hearing, “Give this to the healers caring for your parents.”

Neville took it with a frown, “What?”

But Harry was already taking the final steps.

He saw Ron sitting with Hermione, and Harry’s heart broke.

_If you could change the past, would you?_

He had said yes.

Harry cursed and tapped Dumbledore on the shoulder, the man spun on him, his eyes going to his rim of his outrageous hat, “James Potter?”

Harry shook his head, “When did they go in?”

“What?”

“When did the Champions go in?” Harry asked, more slowly.

“An hour ago,” Dumbledore answered, “Who-?”

“Alastor Moody is trapped in a trunk in the DADA office and your teacher who has been teaching your students is Barty Crouch Jr.. He’s a Death Eater using this tournament to resurrect Voldemort and murder Harry Potter.”

Albus gaped at him.

For a moment, Harry enjoyed that expression, before he turned and sprinted into the maze. Albus’s shock and the other professor’s confusion, giving him the time to enter unimpeded.

Plus, he wasn’t exactly slow on his feet, he might have been in his late forties but Harry wasn’t out of shape. He also didn’t pause as he began to undo the spellwork that had erected the hedges. Just the hedges, revealing the monsters and the traps behind. 

It wasn’t a wise thing to do really, as Hagrid had definitely done his job. Suddenly, the bored crowd began to scream as the ‘challenges’ began to pose a challenge to the staff spectating and the students and their parents.

Harry cursed himself for hesitating as he watched from yards away one of his worst nightmares and biggest regrets play out before his eyes. 

But he acted anyway, even if it was too late, he pointed his wand to shoot the cup back.

Cedric’s hand missed the handle, Harry freaking Potter, however, was an excellent Seeker, and he leant forward to catch the cup. He was wrenched from space for his trouble to out cry of the speaking.

Harry the Elder, came to a halt. He had still been figuring out how to apparate off Hogwarts grounds, like Dumbledore, in recent years.

He hadn’t gotten the trick of it yet. So, instead, he searched for something…

Or someone.

“Excuse me, Sphinx?” Harry called.

The cat woman creature paused in her meandering, “Yes, wizard?”

“I don’t mean to offend but might I have a ride to the border?”

She tilted her head, and sat back on her hind legs, then asked:

“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,

Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.

It lies behind stars and under hills,

And empty holes it fills.

It comes out first and follows after,

Ends life, kills laughter.”

“Darkness,” Harry answered without hesitation.

The Sphinx’s smile was predatory, yet she lowered herself to the ground and Harry didn’t waste time as he climbed her back and said, “Thank you so much.”

“I couldn’t pass up a chance to perhaps eat you,” she replied, before taking off in a sprint toward the border of the Hogwarts grounds as absolute pandemonium broke out behind him.

* * *

Harry watched Voldemort, newly risen, raving as he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave.

"Listen to me, reliving family history..." he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental....But look, Harry! My true family returns...."

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one, they moved forward...slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. 

And then someone who wore normal wizarding clothing apparated before Harry.

“Hey, Voldy, looking as horrid as ever, I see,” that voice struck Harry as both kind and confident.

Completely unafraid of the monsters he stood in front of.

Voldemort spun on them, his red eyes going wide, and he breathed, “It cannot be.”

The man laughed, “I know. Isn’t it just a pain when your enemies don’t stay dead?”

Voldemort hissed, “James Potter.”

Harry’s heart nearly stopped in his chest.

But the man, whose hand was holding his wand at his back, said, “A relative of mine, of course, but no, I’m not James.”

Harry swallowed hard, hope fleeing him.

Nearly a dozen Death Eaters and Voldemort versus Harry and this strange wizard, who twisted his wrist and the ropes dropped from around Harry.

Voldemort snarled, “Who are you?”

Harry could hear the smile in the man’s voice, “Your worst nightmare.”

What followed was the most impressive wand work Harry had ever witnessed, the man cutting the air with his wand, pulling up the stones from the earth to meet Voldemort’s screamed Avada Kedavras and the other Death Eaters began to attack the man.

That single man struck out counter curses as fast as he brought his wand up in defence.

Two of the Death Eaters dropped, whether dead or otherwise, Harry couldn’t tell, but he winced as stone debris began to blow back, time and time again, after each Unforgivable curse was blocked. Which was when Voldemort switched to other curses, and Harry watched one of the strongest shield charms he had ever personally witnessed as the man bellowed, _“Protego!”_

The first spell he had spoke out loud.

The man spun, taking Harry with him as he rolled behind the tombstone and then-

Like the cup, Harry felt himself tugged impossibly through space.

Where they landed next was not at all where Harry would have thought.

He blinked at the streetlights, and asked, looking up at the man who had just gone up against Voldemort to save him, “Where- where are we?”

“London,” the man said, checking their surroundings, “Good, I don’t think they followed us. But let’s move, never stay in one place unless it is truly secure.”

Harry hurried to catch up to him, “Thank you, sir, for saving me.”

“You are most welcome, Mr. Potter,” the man said, flashing him a smile.

Harry nearly tripped over the cobblestones. He looked like his father.

But under the streetlights, Harry saw the grey streaks in his hair, this man was too old to be his father, older than Sirius even.

Though for an old guy, Harry had to nearly run to catch up, “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home,” he said.

That was an unnerving answer. One, because Harry didn’t live in London, two, if this man was taking him back to Hogwarts, why were they in London? Three, if he was taken back to the Dursley early, he was going to break something.

Four, why was he following a stranger through the night?

Oh, right, because he owed this man his life.

“Who are you?” Harry asked.

The man stopped dead and turned to look down at him, he observed Harry for a moment before he said, “Harris Magnolia Black, it is wonderful to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Harry James Potter. And this is number 12, Grimmauld Place.”

Then Harris Black took a step to the side, and an apartment jumped into being.

Harry stared at him and couldn’t stop himself from asking, “You think this is my home?”

Harris grinned, “Home is where the loved ones are.”

Harry was still confused, “You’re related to my dad and the Blacks?”

Harris smiled wider as he pulled Harry up to the stoop, “I’m not a pureblood, I’m just a bastard child lost in time.”

And then Harris Magnolia Black disapparated, leaving Harry standing on the stoop of Grimmauld Place.

Harry wasn’t sure what to think, but he didn’t want to linger on this lonesome street at night, so he began knocking on the door.

The door was yanked open a moment and a rather panic-stricken Sirius Black stared down at him. Confusion passed over his face, and then…

Harry found himself wrapped in the tightest hug he could ever remember, and he clung onto his godfather just as fiercely.

“Oh, Harry,” Sirius said into his hair without letting go, “Harry, I am so glad you're safe. I just heard- but you’re here. You’re safe.”

Harry sank into that moment of safety, that moment in which someone just loved him for him. Someone who cared for his well being and was happy to welcome him home.

Home truly was where the loved ones were.

* * *

AN: Feedback, thoughts, ideas, events you wish to occur in this story, and yes, my artistic process is writing a bunch of stories at once, so any orcas to add to the pod?


	2. Deception

KEYnote: I promise chapters will get longer but I get so sick of reading the bank scenes and the blah, blah, blah, that we are going right into the fun parts ;D Thank you Nauze!!!

Chapter 2 - Deception

Sirius finally broke the hug and ushered Harry into a darkened apartment.

Harry couldn’t really see much, but he got the distinct impression of a dusty dirty place, like an abandoned storage building.

Sirius hushed him as they crept into a room that looked like a dingy dining room, warmed by the pleasant crackling of a fire in the hearth.

Sirius directed him to an old armchair and then sat down across from him. He pulled his wand and took care of the cut Wormtail had given him. “How did you get here? How did you even know to come here?”

“Um, he called himself Harris Magnolia Black, do you know him?”

Sirius went very still, “No, Harry, you shouldn’t trust-”

“He saved my life,” Harry defended, “and he looked like my dad.”

Sirius cocked his head like a dog, “Saved your life from what?”

“Voldemort,” Harry said, “and even Voldemort called him James Potter.”

“Whoa, wait, Voldemort? I heard you disappeared from the tournament after some stranger took down the hedge maze.”

Harry shook his head, “I saw the hedge disappear but I was in the process of catching the cup and it was portkey.”

Sirius’s face paled, “Tell me.”

So Harry told him.

Sirius was frowning as Harry described Harris’s duel with the Dark Lord.

“He deflected the Killing Curse?”

“Multiple times!” Harry exclaimed, “I thought it was impossible to block it.”

“It is!” Sirius agreed, “Or it is supposed to be. What was he doing?”

“He was levitating or conjuring stones, and they shattered but he didn’t stop. It was hard to tell, it all happened so fast. Sirius, I’ve never seen anyone move like that, he looked as if he was brandishing a sword. He downed two of the Death Eaters while holding Voldemort back. But then Voldemort stopped using the Killing Curse and he pulled up this  _ massive _ shield charm, and he disapparated us out of there.”

Sirius sat back in his chair, “A man who could stand against Lord Voldemort and his followers, who saved your life. And he claims to be a Black.”

“He said he was related to my father and that he was,” Harry cleared his throat, “a bastard child.”

Sirius’s brows shot up, “How old was he?”

“Not too old but older than you.”

“Interesting,” Sirius mused and stroked his beard in thought.

He looked much better and cleaner than the last time Harry had seen him.

“You think he meant that literally?” Harry asked, “And where are we?”

Sirius sighed, “Well, our friend’s knowing where this place is, is a testament to his telling the truth. No one but a Black could have known how to get here and not set off any of the wards in the process. Which means he’s either my uncle or my brother. What confuses me is how an illegitimate child would be aware of this place. Unless my father reinvested in him after Regulus died.”

“But why would he look like my father?”

Sirius shrugged, “Any number of reasons. Illegitimate children are almost impossible to track. If he is older than me, then he may be the Black Heir, which would of course mean he is a part of our direct line, but otherwise…” Sirius sighed, “Short of a muggle blood test, pureblood family lines are so entangled that it would be hard to tell how closely related he was to James and yourself.”

“Oh,” Harry said wrinkling his nose, “I don’t know why this world hates muggleborns so much if it means they could avoid-” he gestured.

Sirius laughed, “Indeed, Harry, indeed.” Then he sighed, “I suppose we should get you bac-”

“ _ No!” _ Harry almost shouted.

“Harry,” Sirius said, “People need to know you’re okay.”

“Why? They let me compete in the tournament, someone tricked the Goblet yet no one could find a loophole to get me out of tasks. No one cared when Skeeter came after me or when the school hated me,  _ again _ . They don’t actually care about my safety, why should I do anything for them?”

Sirius looked at him, “Harry, don’t you want to go back to school?”

“I’ll write Ron and Hermione so they know I’m alright, but no. I was excused from finals and I don’t want to take the fall for being the first person to say Lord Voldemort is back. You offered at the end of last year to run away with you if I wanted. Please, Sirius, I can’t take another summer trapped with the Dursleys.”

Sirius’s face softened, “Well, I suppose, keeping you safe wouldn’t be too hard in this old place. It’s warded against everyone. Except for this Harris fellow, but he certainly seems alright.”

“Does Dumbledore know you are here?” Harry asked.

“No, he sent a message about you by way of patronus. But I just got here not a week ago, I haven’t told him about it lest he get any funny ideas. I’m not sure that it was habitable.”

“It’s a roof,” Harry said before asking, “does it have running water?”

“Yes, but-”

“Please, Sirius,” Harry begged, feeling as if everything was catching up to him all at once and he just couldn’t face the chaos at Hogwarts or another summer with the Dursleys, not knowing what was out there. Not after having faced and almost dying by Voldemort and his Death Eaters again. “You’re my godfather. You’re who my parents wanted me with, not the Dursleys. You and I know I’m okay, who else really matters? If I’m safe, I’m safe, and I’m safe with you.”

Sirius’s lips thinned, but Harry could see the hope and light in his godfather’s blue eyes, before he gave a wolfish grin, “You know what? You’re right. And kidnapping Harry Potter isn’t actually going to make ‘Kiss on Sight’ any worse.”

Harry actually cheered.

Then jumped when a wailing went off in the hallway.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“My mother,” Sirius said with a sigh.

“I thought we were alone here,” Harry said.

“Nope, there is you, me, Kreacher, my mother’s portrait, and whatever else decided to make a home here.”

“Oh,” Harry said lamely.

“Still want to live here?” Sirius asked.

Harry snorted, “Sirius, as long as I’m with you, I’d prefer living in a cave than the Dursleys.”

Sirius barked a laugh, “Well good, that’s the kind of attitude you’ll need to live this crypt.”

Harry felt that there was more than a tinge of bitterness in that statement. But he was far too happy, and tired, to hold onto that thought as he kicked off his shoes and curled up by the fire.

* * *

Harris Magnolia Black

* * *

Harry found himself aimless wandering the London streets as he tried to figure out where to go.

And tried really, really hard to think about why he didn’t have anywhere to go.

All he could do was worry about Magnolia as the rain beat down on him, the slick streets smelling of wet stone and the night chill biting into his bones.

Magnolia was a baby and Voldemort was alive, again.

Magnolia, unlike her parents, unlike James and Rose, was unable to protect herself. Harry had to be there for her, he had to be.

But as he paced the street that Teddy’s apartment was on, it finally sunk in, slowly, like needles before the numbness, as to why he didn’t just go straight to his own godson and granddaughter.

Because they didn’t exist.

His family didn’t exist.

The life he built for himself: gone.

The happiness, the friends, the in-laws, his students, all gone.

No one would remember them but him, not as they had been, and no one would remember who he had become.

They were all gone, with no chance of them existing as they had been, no way for him to go back and relive raising his children. He had already changed too much.

They were gone.

Harry screamed.

He bellowed his pain up into the rain and didn’t care if people saw him or thought him crazy.

His family was no more!

His babies…

His sons and daughter.

His granddaughter Magnolia…

He might never see them again, might never know them. He wouldn’t even get the opportunity to see the woman Magnolia would have grown up to be or know of the other grandchildren he might have had. 

And for what? To get a second chance at a war that had shredded his people, taken the lives of almost every witch and wizard he had grown up?

Even if he had managed to kill Voldemort tonight, it wouldn’t have changed the rot lurking in their community, the rot they had only just begun to grow back from.

Harry found an alley, hiding from the light and wishing for nothing more than to stop feeling, because the worst was yet to come. The thing he was running away from in his own mind.

Andromeda had done this to him.

The woman he loved had done this to him without his opinion or consent.

She had taken away everything from him,  _ choosing _ him to be the one to save their world,  _ again. _

He felt… betrayed, violated, and pissed off!

This was something Gin might have done to him but not Andromeda; how could she have done this to him?

He wished he hadn’t returned home last-  _ this _ night. Wished he had taken Teddy up on his offer and just stayed the night, little Magnolia asleep in his arms, bringing joy to all by just existing.

But she didn’t exist in this world.

Harry began to cry then, because never had he ever felt so helpless, like there was no light left fighting for in the world.

He had done his part, he had paid his prices, he didn’t think he could, and he knew that he did not  _ want _ to do it again.

“I trusted you,” Harry said brokenly to the night, then again his voice rose as the rain beat against him in a deluge, “You bitch, I trusted you! I loved you! How could you do this to me!?”

He pictured Andromeda’s beloved face as she said,  _ I know that this is unforgivable, but I know you will find happiness again. _

He screamed, long and wordless.

She had taken  _ everything _ away from him.

Then he remembered the life leaving her eyes, and it finally clicked as to what had happened.

Why she hadn’t talked to him before doing this.

Andromeda had martyred herself to send him back in time, for one chance that he might be able to make a better future for them all.

To fight the Dark Lord as a man and not a child.

Andromeda had killed herself.

That knowledge wrenched through him and what was left of his heart shattered.

He curled up in that alley and let the rain and cold take him.

He knew that when the sun rose, he would do what needed to be done, because that’s just who he was.

He was Harry fucking Potter.

But tonight, he let himself mourn.

To say goodbye to everything that had made his life worth living.

oOo

By the time the morning came, Harry was stiff and cold, but the most unexpected and most welcomed visitor perched on his shoulder.

He blinked up at her, “Hedwig?”

She hooted and glared down at him reproachfully.

He let out a pained dry laugh as he staggered to his feet, “Alright, girl, I hear you. Pull yourself together, Harry.”

She nipped his ear.

“Ow! Merlin, yes, I missed you too.”

She nodded but seemed to wait for him, and he sighed, waving his wand over himself.

Dry and clean, she bobbed her head again before rubbing her cheek against his.

Nothing beat a familiar as brilliant as Hedwig.

“Yeah, I love you too,” he told her, stroking her cheek, “Now go on to our younger counterpart, and be careful of whatever is in that apartment.”

With one final light nip, she took off.

Harry watched her go, her snow what feathers cutting through the London gloom, and rubbed his eyes.

He no longer wore glasses, thanks to Rose accidentally magicking his glasses into his eyes when he had been explaining to the little girl that he couldn’t see without him.

His being blinded had scared her and her magic had lashed out.

Resulting in a trip for Harry to St. Mungos. Since accidental magic wasn’t any kind of formal spell or curse, it hadn’t been an exact science/countercurse, to get the glasses removed from his eyeballs.

The end result, luckily while he was unconscious, was an emergency, and dramatic, eye crafting work. His eyes now worked properly, but they had lost their green colour.

He now was as blue eyed as Sirius.

Which was good for what he had planned as he weaved his way through Diagon Alley.

The bands Andromeda had given to him weighed heavy in his breast pocket even as he stepped into the bank to claim his title as Head of House Black.

Technically, he was the oldest living member now, and in his own time, he had stepped up in politics, mostly because of Hermione’s urging, and because he was sick of the stagnation.

He was tantamount to a world leader in the Wizarding community, and Harry had used his power for good. He would do so again now.

Plus, claiming the title would give him access to money.

As he hoped, the goblin who greeted him and took his blood sample fell in his favour. The rivulet of blood glowed bright over an old seal confirming him as Head of House Black, proving that blood magic was silly and stupid and didn’t understand time travel or incest.

After that little reveal, Harry got a private room to conduct his business.

“Full name and heritage,” the goblin demanded more than asked.

“Harris Magnolia Black, first son of Orion Black,” Harry lied boldy, thinking that Sirius would get a good laugh out of his defiling the name of Black, “no idea who my mother would have been. I think she died when I was a baby.” 

The goblin sneered, “It doesn’t truly matter, not for what you wish to claim.”

“I want Sirius Black, and his godson, Harry Potter, to continue having access to the Black Family Vault.”

“Unregulated?” the goblin asked.

“Yes, though if Sirius randomly tries transferring everything to another vault, I would like to be informed.”

“I would also like to claim the title Lord Black.”

The goblin raised his brow, “Mr. Black, you would be taking the seat currently held by Lord Lucius Malfoy who holds the seat of the House of Black due to his marriage.”

Harry smiled, “Excellent. Also, are there any properties on the account still?”

“Number 12 Grimmauld Place,” the goblin said looking down at a list of assists.

“I want that crossed off the records, the physical deed will remain in the vault inaccessible to any but Sirius Black or myself, unless we both die, in which case Mr. Potter may gain access to if in need.”

“That will cost you,” the goblin sneered.

Harry tossed him three gallons, as he hadn’t travelled back in time with nothing on him, “One to do your job, two to keep your mouth shut, three for an advance bribe, you break this trust of three forever shame on thee.”

Luna had taught him that, and the goblin glowered but pocketed the gold without another word, “It will be done, Mr. Black.”

“Any others?”

“Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, owned an apartment that she vacated upon marriage but it was bought and deeded to Orion Black, your father.”

Harry took in a sharp breath.

_ It would have worked for her too! _

Harry wasn’t big on ignoring the signs in his life, and this one was shouting  _ save Bellatrix Lestrange _ .

Merlin have mercy on him.

But at this point, with Voldemort free, Harry had two options, get to her before the Dark Lord did, or kill her at a later date.

Harry remembered how much Bellatrix had looked like Andromeda, and no matter how mad he was at her, he couldn’t kill her look-alike, not when he had been granted the means and a chance to save her.

Hermione was absolutely right, he did have a saving people’s thing.

“Well,” Harry said, “it will no longer be vacated. What number?”

“1119 Knockturn Alley, though its windows overlook Diagon Alley.”

“Swell,” Harry groused, then he asked, “Is the signet ring still in the vault as well?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Harry said, “very, good.”

And probably really bad for everyone else.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt was pretty sure the Wizarding World was going to implode.

He wasn’t really sure people would have believed that Voldemort, the Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named, You Know Who, was back, but after a month of Harry Potter having been missing… well.

The rumours were larger than life, and Harry Potter was the name on everyone’s lips and Sirius Black the shadow in everyone’s nightmares.

Yet in all the chaos, one light shone through.

A mysterious man who had arrived at the Triwizard Tournament and accurately accused Moody Alastor of being an imposter, and had also given Neville Longbottom a potion recipe.

A recipe that Potions Master Severus Snape had brewed, and several others analyzed, and in the end it had been cleared to give to Frank and Alice Longbottom, two Aurors Kingsley himself had trained along with Alastor.

A miracle had occurred and the two long mourned Aurors began to heal and regain themselves.

Kingsley had been there to see the first time Alice called her son by name.

Neville and his grandmother had wept openly.

Kingsley's own tears had been shed in private.

Whoever that strange man had been, who supposedly looked like James Potter, was a hero.

But nobody could find him, not him, or Sirius, or Harry Potter, or a supposedly resurrected He Who Must Not Be Named.

Kingsley sighed, wishing he could be out there,  _ doing his job _ rather than in court, listening to another useless briefing on Britain security.

Amelia echoed his side beside him and they exchanged a look.

That look said, ‘Higher smarter Aurors and let us lead our department, problems solved’.

Instead, the Wizengomat droned on, some having rightfully earned their seats, others having wrongly inherited them.

But just when Kingsley was debating responding to an ‘urgent alert’, James Potter walked through the doors.

Everyone froze, Fudge cutting off mid-word.

It took Kingsley a moment to see past the familitiries.

It wasn’t James. 

For one, he was actually older than James would have been had he lived, marked by the streaks of silver and white in his black hair. For another, his eyes were blue and he wore no glasses. The longer Kingsley looked at him, the more changes he spotted, taller than James, his robes cut a more lean frame with broader shoulders, and he stood like a man who hadn’t been raised in privilege but through war.

Kingsley wasn’t sure why exactly he thought the last, perhaps he just knew too many veterans, and perhaps too many ‘young lords’ to compare him to.

Fudge leaned forward over his podium, the wood creaking, “Who are you?”

The man smiled, not in the least intimated, “Lord Harris Magnolia Black, eldest son of Orion Black, and I’ve come to claim my seat in court.”

Kingsley supposed it was the month of scandals and surprises, because the wards of this room, a private closed meeting room that predated the Ministry of Magic itself, wouldn’t have let any non-member through those doors without explicit invitation that had been approved by all sitting members, as was Kingsley own status.

Which meant…

Mr. Harris Black approached the Wizagomat seats, and accurately identified the seat that was meant for him, was the legitimate heir to House Black. The man smirked at Lucius Malfoy, who was sitting ramrod straight in the seat only granted to him because of his marital status to the only Black not exiled or imprisoned.

Mr. Black quirked a dark brow at the blonde, “Out of my seat, pretty boy.”

No one said a word.

Lucius Malfoy stared at the man usurping his privilege, who, if Lucius made an enemy out of in the first conversation, would reflect badly on him and his standing within the other Pureblood families.

If the Head of House Black was back in society, they were all in for a change, whether for good or ill.

Lucius stood wordlessly and, with the barest incline of his head, vacated his seat.

Mr. Black waited for Lucius to step off the platform before taking that seat.

When Malfoy was halfway to the door, Black called, “Oh, and Lucius?”

Lucius froze, and when Black didn’t immediately speak, Lucius turned back to ask, “Yes, Mr. Black?”

“Do say hello to your wife for me, won’t you?” Black asked, something dark and teasing in his voice, “I would dearly love to catch up with her.”

Heat rose to Lucius’s pale cheeks and he whirled on his heel to the exit in a sweep of pale hair and dark cloaks.

Kingsley shared another look with Amelia.

Kingsley was pretty sure Harris Magnolia Black was the man Albus Dumbledore and Neville Longbottom had described, who had given Neville the Belladonna Cure, and who had apparently rode off on the back of the Sphinx from the Final Task.

Making him the hero of the Longbottoms and the Auror’s office.

As well as the new primary suspect in the case of the missing Harry Potter.

So Kingsley worried about that last comment, either Mr. Black had a strange sense of humour, or he been threatening Lucius and his wife, or, and as they would be first cousins, Kingsley didn’t want to think it to be the most obvious implication, that Mr. Black had been making an overture to Narcissa Malfoy through her husband.

As Harris Magnolia was a Black, there was absolutely no way to be certain.

Perhaps it had been all three options.

Kingsley sighed,  _ At least this afternoon’s meeting had become interesting. _

* * *

AN: Two chapters, one day? Show your author some love and comment on character and plot, please? 


	3. Muggle Shenanigans

KEYNOTE: Harry will always think of himself as Harry but for your benefit, I will start writing Harris and Harry. (though I will likely slip up some on this and I do apologize).

P.s. I’m skipping Horcrux hunting, you’ve read it before, I’ve written it before, and honestly, I finally found a compelling HP drama that can be held up while still messing around in the realm of the books :D

* * *

Thanks Nauze!

Chapter 3 - Muggle Shenanigans 

Harris would classify this summer as one of his worst.

Merlin help him, he had thought his childhood was bad, that that was the worst it could get.

_Wrong._

So very wrong he had been.

Harry spent many a day cursing Andromeda into absentia even as he mourned her and his children that he would never see again.

As for what he did practically over the summer?

He attended court, played politics, and did the damage repair for what a neglected House of Black had become.

He wasn’t exactly sure what the public made of him. His every vote was progressive, and yet, he had publicly snubbed Albus Dumbledore at every opportunity.

He had also refused to meet with Frank and Alice Longbottom, writing them a note instead that read:

_Dear Mr. & Mrs. Longbottom, _

_I am glad to hear of your recovery. But I am afraid I am not the Potions Master who created the cure, merely the person who passed it along. So, there is not much we could discuss and I am not the one who deserves your gratitude, nor can I tell you who the creator of the Cure is._

_I wish you and your son all the happiness in the world._

_Sincerely,_

_Harris Magnolia Black_

That hadn’t endeared him into making any friends but also hadn’t made him any enemies in court.

He was an enigma on the Wizengomat, a strong super of civil rights for muggleborn and non-humans, and yet not a friend of Dumbledores.

At this point in time, politicians were one or the other.

Harry’s only real enjoyment that summer was shooting down Dumbledore’s every attempt at talk or introduction.

His public rebuffing of Dumbledore, and the fact that despite voting in the modern way's favour, he never brought forth his own ideas or voiced an opinion. He just listened and voted.

He was a political enigma, belonging to neither side, which of course meant he was claimed by both sides.

Harris also knew, however, he would need the purebloods on his side for what he had planned, even if Voldemort had probably connected the dots on who he was.

However, he was counting on Voldemort’s curiosity to get him to play with fire.

So he approached Mr. Friel Nott with the full expectation of being well received.

Mr. Nott’s eyes darkened, focusing in interest as Harris approached, “Mr. Nott.”

“Mr. Black.”

“I had a matter which I wished to get your thoughts on,” Harris said, blandly, aware of the eyes on them.

Mr. Nott raised a brow but nodded, “Of course, would you accept a private drink?”

Harry nodded, “It would be my pleasure, shall we take the floo?”

The skin around Nott’s eyes tightened but he nodded.

Harris didn’t allow anyone to apparate him, not if he had anything to say about it. When they got into the hall of fireplaces, Harry had the exact address of where he was going.

The Nott Estate was likely only standing because of the five house-elves who ran it. The Nott family lacked money, and what income they did have, Friel primarily used on drink.

Even still, Harry was surprised to see Blaise Zabini beside Theo on the sofa before the fire.

Both shot up to their feet, their expressions smoothing into well-practised masks.

Harry brushed the soot off even as Freil went straight for the liquor. It wasn’t until he poured himself a glass and took a long draw did he say, “Harris Black, this is my son, Theodore, and his friend, Blaise Zabini. Boys, Mr. Black.”

Harry felt his heart ache as he held out his hand first to Theo and then Blaise.

They took his hand, shaking it back firmly, but there was a bit of confusion breaking through their masks.

Children in the Wizarding World weren’t given much credit as being on their own.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Harry said genuinely.

Teddy had been sorted into Hufflepuff.

But the twins had both been sorted into Slytherin. James had married Theo’s daughter, Eliza Nott, and Rose had married Blaise’s son, Dharmik Zabini. Over the years, and especially after Ron had been assassinated, Harris, Theo, and Zabini had grown to be, well, not friends exactly, but they had become family, finding that they had much more in common than any of them had believed.

Theo just nodded and Blaise stared at him suspiciously.

Friel came over with a glass for Harris and instructed coldly, “Get lost you two.”

Theo nor Blaise needed to be told twice as they nearly sprinted from the room.

Harris would happily murder Friel.

Theo would probably have thanked him.

But Harris also knew that Lucius was Theo’s godfather, and that would not help Theo now.

Draco was in enough danger as it was, no reason to put two children directly into Voldemort’s path.

Harris pretended to sip his drink after they had both sat down, using a bit of wandless magic hidden at his side to make some of the alcohol to disappear.

“What is it you wished to discuss, Black?” Friel asked.

And that’s why Harris had decided to go to him, because Friel had the intelligence to understand politics, just not the patience.

He would rather torture things or drink his boredom than participate in society.

“I need a favour,” Harris said, jumping straight into it.

“That will cost you,” Friel answered, taking another swig.

Harris was careful to keep his expression clear, “Name a price, and I’ll have the funds transferred to your account.”

As well as a trust fund made for Theo.

Harris didn’t know if the younger Harry would have a child that would marry a Nott, but Harris remembered how proud Eliza’s father had been, how Theo had nearly ruined his marriage with Daphne because he had been unwilling to ask for help.

Theo was as much family as Sirius was in Harris’s mind, and as long as he could keep giving, keep helping and making things better, he would have a reason to live.

Or at least that was what he was telling himself.

“I need to know what it is,” Friel said, looking at him now with a bit more interest.

“Nothing illegal, of course, I just need your support in a public matter.”

“In court?”

“Yes.”

Friel swirled the amber liquid in his glass, before naming a sum.

It was pricey, but not unreasonably so.

Harry held out his hand, “Agreed.”

Friel stared at him, but shook on it, he needed the money after all. “Now, what’s the motion.”

“I want to clear my little brother’s name.”

“Half-brother.”

“He’s still blood of my blood.”

“Perhaps,” Friel mused, “but are you even a pureblood?”

“Given my physical appearance to the Potters, I would imagine so, but I never knew my mother, so I cannot say for certain.”

“Who trained you?” Friel asked, doing Voldemort’s bidding like, everyone wanted to know who ‘Harris Magnolia Black’ was.

“Tutors,” Harris said. “Orion went great lengths to keep me hidden from view of the Wizarding World.”

“Where have you been all these years?”

Harry shrugged, leaning back in his seat, “I married a witch abroad, she’s dead now. So I came back to Britain to find what family I could have left to me.”

Something sobered on Friel’s expression at that, “I lost my wife as well.”

“My sympathies.”

“Nothing has been the same since she died.”

Harris let the silence fill as Friel gazed into the fire.

Finally, the alcoholic said, “Clearing Sirius Black’s name will not be easy, he has made enemies and most of his friends are long buried.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t much care, nor do I care if he is innocent or not. I will say whatever it takes to free him.”

“Why?” Friel asked, “Why go to all that trouble for a man you don’t know, brother or no?”

“He is Harry Potter’s godfather.”

Friel’s expression twisted, “Ah, yes, the Boy Who Lived. Rumour had it you had kidnapped him.”

Harris shrugged, “That boy is my Heir, I will allow no harm to come to him.”

Friel eyed him, “Potter is not your blood.”

Harris gestured to himself, that he was literally Harry James Potter was lost Friel, but the resemblance spoke volumes.

Friel snorted, “Alright, I see your point. But no good ever came to those protecting Harry Potter.”

Harris leaned forward, “No good ever came from screwing with a Black either. I want Sirius freed.”

Friel was quiet for a long moment, “What of your female relatives, the Black Sisters?”

Here, Harris would lie, or at least distort the truth to appeal to the Death Eater’s baser urges, “I want nothing to do with Andromeda Black, she betrayed our house in marrying a man without significance. I’m sure you can imagine, my own heritage being in question, I have little sympathy for a mother that would force that upon their own child.”

Friel nodded, as if what Harris had said had made perfect sense and wasn’t hypocritical at all.

“As for her daughter, Nymphadora, the poor child, I bear no ill will toward her, given she marries a respectable family.”

No Death Eater would ever consider Remus Lupin as a respectable match. However, the House of Lupin would not reflect poorly on the child and thus, Tonks’ marriage would not have gotten her expelled from her from pureblood circles, well, at least it would have stopped Teddy at any rate.

“Narcissa Malfoy?” Friel probed, “Bellatrix Lestrange?”

“I hold Narcissa in the highest regard,” Harry said truthfully, “As for Bellatrix, well, I understand that her crimes are a bit more significant. Freeing her from prison would take more than a trial.”

Friel smiled into his glass, “You would be surprised, but at any rate, I agreed to help you and I will. Given you transfer that fee and you’re as clever as you think you are.”

Harris smiled, as he ‘drained’ his glass in one swig before standing, “It truly was a pleasure, Mr. Nott.”

“You’re an intriguing man, Mr. Black, but one I think I could respect.”

Harris bowed, before disapparating away.

* * *

Narcissa listened silently to the report Nott gave to the Dark Lord. 

She had sent Draco to Lucius’s family estate in France, where she had a few cousins who were always happy to have him.

She fought down a scowl when her name was mentioned and Lucius stiffened at her side.

All eyes turned to her, and she glared them all down, including, but not focusing, on the Dark Lord himself, “I say again, I have never met this man.”

“He’s clearly not for our cause,” Macnair said angrily.

“Not so hasty,” the Dark Lord said, “Blood is important to him, I can respect that.”

“He stood against you,” Macnair gasped, outraged.

“He saved his heir,” the Dark Lord said, giving Narcissa a look that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable, “it does not mean he cannot be persuaded to see reason.”

“Perhaps,” Yaxley offered, “if he were to remarry, to have a son of his own, he would cease to care about Sirius and Potter.”

“Then why are we speaking of helping him clear Sirius’s name?” Lucius asked, “He is a nuisance and a hindrance to our cause.”

Narcissa didn’t make a motion there, she had loved Sirius once, they had been closer in age and might have been friends once.

Before her Aunt had begun locking Sirius in his room to keep him from ‘embarrassing’ them all. Before Bella had snapped.

“For every supposed Death Eater freed,” the Dark Lord said, “the quicker our people can regain control of the populace. I take it as a point in our favour that Mr. Harris Black has made no declarations against us as his plain disdain of Dumbledore bodes well. The Blacks are a powerful family, and Harris appears much more competent than his brothers ever were. The risk of gaining such an ally is worth letting that runt free.”

“He isn’t one of us,” Lucius protested, “he’s obviously related to the Potters, and I can understand why Orion would have hidden him away.”

Narcissa disagreed, if anything, Uncle Orion had most likely would have hidden his firstborn from his wife.

She didn’t like to think what her Aunt would have done to a child conceived outside of the marital bed.

“What does it matter?” Yaxley said, “He’s a Black with all the power that title implies. Widower he may be, but he is at the moment single, we could tie him to us with blood. If his allegiance can be won by strangers, by people he has never met before, we have a simple solution to assuring his alliance.”

Lucius shook his head and said, “We do not have any available witches among our number.”

Crouch smiled at Narcissa with lascivious eyes, “Widows are easily made.”

Narcissa didn’t react even as she cursed Lucius, even as Lucius leaned closer to her to warn Crouch Jr. off.

Her husband had brought these mad zealots into her home, endangered her son.

The Dark Lord chuckled, “A fertile witch would be necessary. Nymphadora could be persuaded to our causes, perhaps.”

Narcissa really doubted that.

But the Dark Lord went on, “It will be something to think on. I found witches to be less reliable, but exceptions can be made. For now, we will assist Mr. Black in freeing his half-brother, and we will see if what he leads the House of Black.”

Narcissa let out a slow deliberate breath and couldn’t fully stop herself from thinking, _Don’t ever play with a Black unless you enjoy being cursed._

* * *

Harris was disappointed as ever to find how woefully defended Hogwarts was at this time.

Flying in through the window on his own wings was a simple matter.

As was finding and destroying Voldemort’s Horcruxes.

Easier, as it happened, then sneaking into the Department of Mysteries and destroying that fucking prophecy.

Dumbledore was such a dipshit for not doing the same all those years ago.

Even now, Harry didn’t understand what he had been protecting.

With the prophecy destroyed, the chances of Voldemort trying to convert Harry before killing him were high.

Which was good, because it would give Little Harry more time to get away.

Honestly, the only reason Harris or Harry was alive today was because Voldemort loved the sound of his own voice, whether he was a snake, a spectre, or otherwise.

Harris took the time to ward Hogwarts to his own liking, planning it for when he knew Dumbledore and McGonagall would be out of the office.

He even went to Hogsmeade and set up a number of alarm wards.

Harris had devoted much of his post-Hogwarts years learning how to ward. It was kind of fitting he had claimed the name Black; he was certainly paranoid enough to do the name proud.

He was neither happy nor surprised when he appeared at Grimmauld place and found the Order of the Phoenix present a week and a half before the start of the school term.

He entered without knocking, feeling the presence of multiple magic users before he even entered the apartment.

The entirety of the Order of the Phoenix.

Molly was fretting over Harry who looked more annoyed than anything else, while Dumbledore was attempting to lecture Sirius.

“You didn’t need to summon _everyone_ ,” Sirius said, “I merely said you could use the place, not that we needed your-”

“You put Harry in danger,” Dumbledore cut him off.

“No, I didn’t,” Sirius said, enraged, “We’ve only made outings to France, in the muggle world, under disguises. Harry has been perfectly safe with me.”

Albus shook his head, giving Sirius ‘disappointed cold shoulder’ as he turned on Harry, “My boy, how could you not write to us? You know how worried-”

“I did write,” Harry argued, “I wrote to Ron and Hermione, and as far as I’m concerned, they are the only ones who’ve been really there for me.”

“That’s not true,” Molly said, hurt all over her face. “And what about Remus, he’s been-”

She looked at Remus who was wearing a guilty expression and looking healthier and cleaner than Harry had ever seen him. Honestly, it looked as if he had deaged fifteen years, and he also shaved his horrid mustache.

A distinct improvement.

Molly shrieked, “You knew where he’s been this whole time!!!”

Sirius crossed his arms, “Yes, because Remus has been living with us.”

“Why didn’t you inform me where you have been?” Dumbledore demanded.

“Because,” Harris said, stepping out of the shadows, not missing Snape’s deepening frown lines, “you would have taken him back to where he was not welcomed. Harry Potter is Heir of House Black, this is his rightful home and place.”

Albus Dumbledore turned on him, and with obvious effort kept his voice pleasant, “Mr. Black, I did not expect to find you here.”

“Sirius and I own this residence, you are the guest, the outsider here, not I.” Harris stepped around Dumbledore, “Sirius, I need to speak with you.”

Dumbledore stepped in front of him, “Anything you have to say to say to Sirius can be shared with this-”

“Vigilante anti-terrorist group?” he asked. “I can think of a number of things I could say that would not at all be suited before this group, Dumby.”

Molly gasped, “You can’t call the Headmaster like that!”

Harris smirked, “Yet here I breathe. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to speak with my brother and nephew.”

He was halfway across the room, Harry suppressing a smile as he approached when Dumbledore said, “You don’t know the powers and plots in which you are interfering. Harry Potter is not a normal child-”

Harris spun on the man, "Enough. You are done with this family. You will stay the hell away from Harry, and so help me if you meddle with his future-"

"How dare you speak to Dumbledore that way, he is a great man!" Molly all but yelled, Hagrid and Snape puffing up as well.

"Why?" Harris challenged, "Because he's powerful? Power does not make one great."

"Well, he's done more than you have ever done, he defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald."

Harris smirked, "See that might be more impressive if they hadn't been lovers," the entire room going still, Dumbledore's were very wide and Harris had an excellent view of Snape's expression, "If he hadn't been a part of his rise and methodology, to begin with, until," Snape's expression crumpled in confusion as Dumbledore seemed to, between one and the next, curl in on himself before he raised his head in defiance. 

"Until," Harris repeated, "You backed out, not wanting to be involved. I would applaud you for cleaning up your own mess, but Voldemort is your fault too. Tom Riddle was your student and you put the responsibility of ending his reign of terror on a child. A child you helped orphan."

Dumbledore shook his head, "You have no idea of what you speak."

“ _No_ ," Harris said, getting in the taller man's face, his rage at his circumstances finding a convenient target, "It is _you_ who does not understand. Somehow, in all your long years, you still fail to understand that there are consequences to your actions that others must pay. I say again, if you intercede in Harry's life again, I will _ruin_ you."

Dumbledore's expression was defiant as he attempted to loom over Harry, his voice gone low, no longer the cheery old geezer he pretended to be.

The others seemed to shrink back, but Harris, oh Harris had longed for this conversation.

But it's hard to get back at a dead man.

"I kept Harry safe from dangers you couldn't possibly-"

Harris snorted derisively, "Is that your best defence? That one layer of death and blood magic is the best you could do? And just on the property of the house, it wouldn't have protected him on the street, or at his primary school, or even the park. The only reason it held was because no one truly believed anyone from the Order of the Phoenix would use a dark ward that required blood from the dead and the living, of a witch and her muggle sister. Furthermore, no one thought you would actually put the _Boy Who Lived_ with a family that, if they were from another century, would have happily roasted marshmallows over the inflamed screaming bodies of 'Satan Worshippers'."

Dumbledore seemed rather done with this conversation, "Harry's family kept him safe from more than just the Death Eaters, but from the public-"

"Yes, you seem so worried about the public but I suppose since he turned eleven, he's man enough to handle the constant unimpeded harassment and gossip that surrounds him. Last year in particular, you did a bang up job of keeping him _safe_ from the public eye. Not to mention a Tournament that has a brilliant history of getting students killed!"

Colour was rising to Dumbledore's cheeks, but Harris was beginning to have fun.

Fun riding the edge of laughter or destruction. It was good to be angry, it was a luxury he had rarely allowed himself, going so far as to get therapy after the twins were born.

But there was no amount of therapy in the world that could get him through losing everyone he had ever loved into the cosmos.

"There are forces you don't-"

"I understand perfectly well that by making those pests of humanity his so-called family, you cut him off from any type of guardianship or guidance in the magical world. You are lucky after what that boy endured that he didn't break, but year after year, you've managed to put him through trials from your lack of competence to handle terrorist threats against the school."

"No one could have predicted-” Dumbledore attempted.

"No, no could have predicted you would groom a child for slaughter through neglect and needless endangerment! Harry Potter was a _child_ , and now he is a young man with his entire life ahead of him and it was nor should it ever have been his responsibility to destroy a Dark Lord before he is of drinking age!" Harris was finally shouting.

But Dumbledore remained quietly angry, "I don't know what you think you know, but-"

"I know everything!" Harris bellowed, "I know how the Dursleys kept that baby you forced upon them in a spider-infested closet under the stairs. How they starved him and gave him only hand-me-down clothing three sizes too big for him. How they would beat him, gave him chores until his hands blistered and until he nearly passed out from heat exhaustion." Harris looked at Hagrid, who took in an angry gasp of air. Harris gestured, "Hagrid was the first one to ever wish him a happy birthday and give him a present. Meanwhile, Harry had to grow up watching his cousin be spoiled in excess. 

“Did you know that they punished Harry any time he got a grade higher than that buffoon, that he was punished for ever asking questions in school? Did it never strike you as odd how such a stubborn boy could be so afraid of his professors? How a child so enamoured with magic, so naturally talented, would lack the inclination to pursue his studies? 

"And let us be perfectly clear, _Albus,_ you are as guilty as those monsters for keeping him there. Do not pretend to me that he did not ask you to be re-homed or that there was no one willing to take him."

The entire room was silent now, and everyone seemed at a loss as to what to say.

"How do you know all of that?"

Harris turned to Harry who was staring at him in horror and confusion, "If you knew so much about me, why didn't _you_ do anything?"

Harris smiled at him sadly, "Because I only learned of it this summer when I went to go see the Dursleys, to have the muggle paperwork signed over to our house. You are truly a Black now, Mr. Potter, I can promise you that you will never be forced to go back to that place again."

Harry stared at him, and Harris saw his own suspicion reflected back at him.

_Never trust adults, they will always fail you in the end, always when you need the most._

A flash of his son's face went through Harris's mind and the thought of James not trusting him damn near broke his heart.

None of Harry's children ever had cause to doubt that were loved.

But before he could say anything more Harry turned his gaze on Dumbledore and asked one simple, little question, "Why?"

Dumbledore seemed to deflate, "I thought I was doing what was best, I never tho-"

"It wasn't your place," Harris snapped.

Hagrid looked very upset even as he spoke up, "It ain't normal for any guar-"

"It wasn't his place," Harris said firmly, he glanced at Minerva, "Do you know, Professor McGonagall?"

She had to swallow before speaking, even still her voice sounded dry as she asked, "Know what, Mr. Black?"

"That as James Potter's godmother, when both Harry's godfather and Alice his godmother, that the Potter's will defaulted Harry's guardianship to you? That it was your responsibility to either take him in or find a loving home for him?"

She stared at him blankly for a moment until his words sank and she turned on Albus, wand raised.

* * *

Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall so furious before, and Harry was kind of honoured it was on his behalf.

Actually, he was just amazed to have any adult actual stand up for him, not just try to protect him, stand up for him.

Nonetheless, he backed up away from the two professors, along with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix as McGonagall actually threw a spell at Dumbledore that he had to whip around to deflect.

It wasn’t a real duel but McGonagall was _enraged._

“How dare you!?” McGonagall began and then said many other things and curse words that even Harry couldn’t make out because her Scottish brogue had grown so thick and he was almost certain there were a few Gaelic swears thrown in.

Harris tapped him on the shoulder and motioned him to follow, Harry followed Harris and Sirius into a little used study.

Harry shut the door, blocking the sound from McGonagall along with Mrs. Black Portrait.

Harry was the first to speak, “Did you hurt the Dursleys?”

Harris shook his head before saying, “No, however, I did use a memory charm on them which was specified to remove all knowledge of the magical world. They will remember you, how they treated you, and Petunia will remember her sister and the wrongs she paid her, but they will not remember that you were a wizard or that your parents were also magical.”

Harry stared up at him, “But that’s why they hated me.”

Harris’s smile was bitter as he said, “And one would hope with that factor removed that they will have the self awareness to regret such unjustifiable behaviour and actions.” 

“I wish you hadn’t said all those things in front of all those people.”

“All those people, aside from perhaps Hagrid, Minerva, and Remus, value you for all the wrong reasons. And besides that, you have been over isolated, community comes from pain shared. Besides, just with the facts, it doesn’t mean they know you.”

“I don’t want their pity.”

“Pity?” Harris repeated with an arched brow, “No, Harry, not pity. Pity was for the loss of your parents you never met, pity was for the dangers you are constantly. That’s not what they are feeling now. The old Order of the Phoenix lost many members, James and Lily’s involvement with them was the reason for their deaths. As repayment for their friends’ sacrifices, they abandoned you, the Potters only son. Guilt is what they feel now and I can only hope that it makes them be more cognizant of their own choices and not give Dumbledore so much blind trust. Having faith in someone is one thing, treating a man like a god is quite another.”

“It was my fault my paren-”

“It was not,” Sirius snapped, “It most certainly was not your fault Lily and James were killed during the war.”

“But they died protecting me,” Harry reasoned.

“Harry, I have lost three children, a grandchild, and all of my family I have ever loved,” Harris said, “I can promise you that I would have rather died a thousand times over than to see any of my children come to harm. Had your parents survived and you had not, it would have been a cursed life they led.”

Harry stared at him, at this man who looked like his father, who was so full of wisdom and pain, yet still, Harris had been the most competent person he had ever met. “I’m sorry for your losses,” Harry said earnestly.

Harris rested a warm hand on his shoulder, “Thank you, my friend. Just try to remember that the only people responsible for killing your parents were Voldemort and Pettigrew.” Harris met Sirius’s graze, “Everything else is immaterial, the choices and mistakes leading up to that date were not the cause of their death. Their death was caused by the people who murdered them.”

Sirius looked away, and Harry reached out a hand to snag Sirius’s hand.

This had been the best summer of his life, but he had seen the guilt Sirius was drowning in.

Sirius blinked very fast yet squeezed Harry’s hand back before he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry too, brother, for your losses. I don’t know how anyone could survive that.”

Harris smiled and let his hand drop as he reached into his robe’s pockets, “I’m surviving only because I still have family, one that needs looking after. Speaking of which,” he handed Sirius the documents, “I secured a court hearing for you. The council is treating it as a joke so not many are showing up but I’ve spent the summer garnering enough support that the vote should go in our favour.” Harry handed him a large ostrich-feather quill. “This is a portkey I spelled to take you into an alley a block or so down from this apartment. If something goes wrong, you will not have to return to the Dementors’ care.”

Harry felt his heart racing, “But I thought we needed Pettigrew?”

“Why would we need him? We aren’t proving who committed the crimes against the Potters and the muggles, only that Sirius did not.”

“Yeah, but I’m not popular,” Sirius pointed out.

“But I am, and more than that, I’ve been playing coy all summer. People will vote in your favour in an attempt to garner mine.”

“But surely Voldemort knows who you are now,” Harry said, “Why would the purebloods want to align with you.”

“Because unlike Sirius, I haven’t spent a lifetime trying to rebel against the House of Black, even as a half-born bastard, I am still more head of this House than Sirius would be even if he held the title.”

“But you attacked Voldemort,” Harry argued.

Harris smiled, “I stood up against, certainly. But Voldemort was holding back and I did no permanent harm to his followers. The only thing I truly did is protect you but you are my only heir, and such a title in our world… It means a great deal. Assuming Voldemort doesn’t attempt to murder you before me again, he will believe that there is a way to gain me as an ally.”

“But you are a good person,” Harry said.

Harris laughed, “I do hope so, but I am a good man who has publicly set himself at odds with the Great Albus Dumbledore, and therefore I remain convertible. I will represent you Sirius. I would like you to come up with as brief a description as you can for what happened that night, and leave out the Fidelius Charm. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“But that’s why I’m-”

“No, you were imprisoned for killing the muggles, which you did not do, there is no proof of it.”

“But the Fidelius-”

“Will mean more coming from me accusing Pettigrew than you,” Harry assured. “For one, there isn’t a curse that would just leave a thumb and nothing else, furthermore, they destroyed the wand. There are plenty of defences we can use to get you off, most of them truthful, and the rest are political.”

“Who trained you in politics?” Sirius asked.

“Your father hired tutors and proceeded to wipe their memory of me after their efforts.”

“Did he pay them?”

Harris raised a brow.

Sirius shook his head, “I shouldn’t trust you, but you saved Harry’s life, and I am grateful to you for standing up to Dumbledore.”

“Why didn’t you tell Dumbledore about the Fidelius Charm or let him be the secret keeper?” Harris asked.

Sirius was quiet for a long moment before he said, “Lily didn’t trust him.”

Harris nodded, “Fair enough. Now let’s discuss how we are going to get you into the ministry.”

“You can use my invisibility cloak,” Harry said, pleased not to be cut out for this conversation.

“That won’t get us through security,” Sirius said sadly.

Harris smiled and laid a large portfolio case, like those used to hold rather large pictures or architecture sketches. When it was opened up, it was just assorted papers and a poster of hippogryph that looked suspiciously like Buckbeak.

Harris tapped his wand on the cross section of the two bands holding the poster in place, the poster changed and the hippogryph flew back in the imagined sky, and a light breeze filled the room.

“I’ll bring you through in this and then you’ll put the invisibility cloak on in the loo. That and the portkey is about as safe as I can make it for you entering the Ministry. Aside, of course, from my being with you.”

“Harry said you held off the Dark Lord.”

“I did, though I’ve managed to lose the element of surprise. He won’t underestimate in a duel a second time, though I admit he doesn’t know my full potential. It was a brief encounter after all.”

“You have my gratitude,” Sirius said.

“Nonsense, we are family, this is what we are supposed to do with one another.”

Sirius smiled, “Well, I think this will be the first time I can say I’m proud to be a Black.”

Harris inclined his head before asking a peculiar question, “Might I have a word with your house-elf?”

Harry didn’t know what business Harris had with Kreature, but Harry was left with the strangest feeling for the future.

Real hope.

* * *

Kingsley really didn’t know what to think as he watched Sirius slip an invisibility cloak off, standing in a respectable suit, hair pulled back in and beard tidy.

Of course, Kingsley had known what to think after that fiasco at Grimmauld Place. He had never seen anyone challenge Dumbledore like that, nor had he ever seen Minvera fly off the handle like that with anyone.

And strangest of all, Dumbledore had deserved that chewing out.

Kingsley didn’t hate the man, but as he watched Sirius give a brief, simple, and clear defence, and Harris defending him like a certified lawyer, he couldn’t help thinking how persuasive he was for a man who had never been an active part of their world before.

Harris played two angles.

The first being that Sirius was innocent, which was true, and there was a certain flavour to the truth that remained no matter what anyone said.

The second was all political manoeuvring, citing the offences of the Ministry on the Pureblood families and the scandal of wrongful imprisonment.

In sum, it was surprising for Sirius to have been able to make it to this chamber unspotted, not at all surprising when the vote to clear Sirius of all charges, saying as no physical proof but rumour even existed anymore.

Nor was it surprising when Mr. Harris Black sent around a document of recompense for damages.

Three identical copies that Fudge and Amelia would have to sign and certify.

The money he asked for certainly seemed to pain and enrage Fudge, and the clause prevented any person or creature being able to give a quote about Sirius Black or Harry Potter to the press for defamation of character.

It meant anyone in the Ministry who tried to publish gossip or hateful speech would be fined, as well as the paper, for sending that quite to print.

Kingsley actually admired that clause, and realized belatedly after it had passed his hand, that it would remove every book ever published without Sirius’s or Harry’s consent that invented a history of Harry’s life and theories that surrounded the events of that October night could no longer be sold or printed in any shop in Britain, or at least any book that advertised itself as being a factual history.

Kingsley had to admit how clever a man like that was, and watched in amusement as Fudge signed the magically binding contracts.

He even allowed himself a small smile as Harry Potter ran from the observer stands, along with Remus, to crush a crying Sirius in a hug as he was declared a free man, cleared on all charges, though in the pit of Kingsley’s stomach, he worried.

Worried because Harris Black had yet to reveal his true colours.

The man was caring and protective of his own.

But was he truly a better man than his father had been, or would he be like the majority of his family, willing to watch the world burn for any but his own?

* * *

Some things Harris and Hermione learned over the years.

The most beautiful thing was playing muggle magic tricks on wizards.

In this case, Harris had just pulled what might have been one of the greatest heists of his life in the most simplistic way possible.

It was a dark day as he pulled out his own magically sealed and ministry approved document to hand to the Azkaban guard. The wind was cold and the waves felt definitely loud.

The man read the bottom most clause over ten times, before checking it with his wand, the approval symbol of the Ministry of Magic that was impossible to forge appeared.

Harris smirked as the dumb founded Aurors summoned their patronouses and led Harry up through the prison after handing him back the legally binding government document of reimbursement for wrongful harm done to the House of Black. One that he had gone the extra distance with to get a third copy recognized by and archived with goblins.

Had Harry used any magical ink, had he used any concealment, the parchment would have burst into flame the moment Fudge would have tried to seal it.

But the same was not true for a muggle chemical based ink that took several hours to appear after being exposed to oxygen.

One feat of muggle shenanigans, two freed Blacks.

The uppermost cells in high security were bleak even with the silver light of phantom animals dancing around them.

Prisoners called out to them, screaming for freedom, for a mere reprieve from their suffering.

Or just screaming from their own personal hells they were trapped in.

Most were simply listless.

And Harris was glad that Bellatrix was unconscious by the time they got to her cell.

He pulled the smelling balm he brought with him out of his pocket nonetheless as he knelt by the skeletal woman left to rot in this cold and hopeless place. He held it to her nose for half a minute, the airborne potion ensuring she would stay asleep before he took the keys from the guard and unlocked her restraints.

Pity consumed him despite himself as he saw what had become of her body.

Harris knew she could heal physically from this, she had before, but it was hard to see anyone like this and not be moved to pity. He wrapped her in the invisibility cloak he had kept from the trial before picking her up. 

No reason to let the entire prison know who had been removed.

Even with the contract, Harris still worried she would be taken from him if enough people were alerted too soon.

But Harris had every intention of disappearing with his new ward, to see if Andromeda was right or not, to see if her sister could, in fact, be healed.

“Lead the way,” Harris said softly to the guards.

The two prison guards exchanged looks but nodded and Harris followed them.

Even if it was Bellatrix Black being freed, other purebloods had been freed before, Sirius included. It showed how corrupt their system was that the guards didn’t arrest Harris for even attempting this.

Harris cradled Bella’s chilled and bony body to his chest as they made their arduous descent through the prison.

Hard to believe that Sirius had come out of this sane, well, mostly sane, at any rate.

Harris had many doubts about doing this, but he knew that it was either he took responsibility for the woman or Voldemort was going to get to her first in his prison break.

Despite Harris’s knowledge of the future, short of assassinating the Death Eaters in their cells, he could think of no way to stop Voldemort from freeing them.

Dumbledore had been warning the ministry for decades that the Dementors could not be trusted.

Harris might have the political pull to get Sirius free, but he didn’t have the presence in their society to change that big of a thing.

Their government’s stupidity wasn’t even something Hermione had been able to fix.

So instead, Harris committed himself to Andromeda’s dying wish.

He just wished that the morality of the thing she had asked him to do had been a bit more clear to his own broken heart. 

* * *

AN: I feel loved!!! Thank you to all the reviewers, the length of this chapter was for you! I would appreciate any plot or character wishes or feedback :D


	4. Challenges to the Galaxy

Dyslexia: **Language disability**. I have a beta and proofread, yet things still fall through the cracks because we are imperfect beings: so kindly, eat your fucking cake and enjoy the **free** content. Also, pettiness gets annoying. Misspelling imaginary words? Really, you're gonna lecture me about that? I listened to the audiobooks and you’re reading fanfiction. 

I can take a critique but I don’t have endless patience for bullshit for a hobby ;)

Chapter 4 - Challenges to the Galaxy

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harris hadn’t left the Hogwarts grounds. He had stayed with Madame Pomfrey and helped her in what ways he could for the people and children who could not be moved to St. Mungo’s. 

Running for your life was scary.

Losing your loved ones was breaking.

Fighting took away everything you were and remade who you had been.

But nothing compared to picking up the pieces afterwards.

Those days, those weeks after the final battle. The helplessness, the brokenness.

The smells and morbid facts of the human body.

Hermione and Ron hadn’t stayed; in fact, aside from Luna, none of his friends had stayed with him.

Harry hadn’t blamed them, especially not when the pain and horror and rage from the parents, from the victims, was directed directly at him. No matter how illogical those despair filled words had been, they had scarred him deeper than he had ever admitted to anyone.

_It’s your fault he targeted the school._

_Why couldn’t you have defeated him sooner!?_

_This is your fault!_

_You did this!_

_Get away from my daughter, you freak!_

Luna alone had seen this, had been at his side, and sometimes, he thought it had poisoned him against her.

Luna had always been able to see through him, and after those weeks…

It had been so raw, _he_ had been so raw.

Of course, she had always been there for him, his best friend in the end, more so than perhaps Ron or Hermione had ever been.

Luna had been the first to tell him to slow down with Gin, that they weren’t the fairest match for each other because they didn’t know each other well enough.

But Harris had rushed into marriage with Gin, had been so ready to put the old chapter of his life behind, to start living, to start a family.

But of course, Luna had been right. And though they had remained friends, Harris knew he had passed up on something that might have been truly beautiful with Luna Lovegood.

Harris, though, had always believed that Luna needed someone better, better than him.

It was the same self-sabotaging and lack of self-respect that had caused most of the woes of his later life.

That led him to this moment now with Bellatrix Goddess-damned Lestrange completely dependent on his care. A situation that was dredging up those long suppressed memories of his time as Madame Pomfrey's assistant.

She had told him that he would have made a good healer.

Harris knew his soul would have died if he had been forced to see an endless stream of suffering, even if he could help them.

Harris took in a steadying breath as he put the tip of his wand, the Elder Wand, to Bella’s forearm.

Harris had regained the Elder Wand after one of his students had broken his Holly wand, and a group of Ravenclaws had either been treasure hunting or trying their hand at necromancy. 

Exhaling sharply, he focused his mind at the task at hand.

He had done this thrice before, once for Draco at Narcissa’s behest, once for Theo, and once for Blaise.

Both Theo and Blaise had been forced to take the Death Eater marks by Friel Nott mere days before the Battle of Hogwarts.

Harris had never asked them the specifics, merely explained how much the countercurse would hurt.

Worse than the Cruciatus Curse, he had been told, only localized in the arm.

Harris had done his best to assure Bella was comfortable, in a warm bath with salts, an attempt to ease some of the pain that a decade of sleeping on cold, rugged stones had caused. With so little meat on her body that her white skin was a patchwork of bruises.

Still asleep even after a full three days of freedom, she had hardly stirred. The moments she did wake she would open her eyes, staring into nothing, let out a long sigh, and snuggle back into bed.

Harris didn’t blame her, and if he was honest, cleaning and feeding her himself was easier than dealing with whoever ended up waking up.

He knew Andromeda’s potion worked, he just didn’t know how much of Bella was insanity or conditioning. The potion could only fix the physicality of the former.

It couldn’t take away all the memories of her abuse nor the reality of her actions.

Harris sighed, berating himself for delaying. He was still debating having used a potion rather than ‘borrowing’ anaesthesia from a muggle hospital but he wasn’t a doctor, and the potion he used was mild because he hadn’t wanted to risk the countercurse having extreme side-effects, trapping her in an inescapable nightmare. After all, it hadn’t exactly been tested on all that many people.

So, taking in another breath, he held her wrist gently, but firmly as he spoke the counter curse, unweaving the ink from her skin.

Her body twitched, her face, all cheekbones and white skin wrinkled with pain.

This curse took about an hour, and Harris split his focus, luring the curse from her personal aura and flesh to himself.

Bella’s body tensed as the pain sunk in, and Harris began speaking to her like he might a skittish hippogryph.

Hermoine considered it incredibly unhealthy when he did this, so far, Harris was the only one to perform this spell without having it rebound.

Harris had refrained from explaining that he still felt a hole in his own aura from where Voldemort’s soul had leached into him.

He was still convinced that the damage to his spiritual self had begun in fifth year, and further exploited by Snape. Whatever the man’s intentions had been, the end result was leaving him mentally weak.

Harris had been careful to ask Harry about the pain in his scar and of recurring dreams through letters with Hedwig.

Harry had written back that the pain was sometimes severe but no dreams.

Considering Harris had destroyed the prophecy in the beginning of the summer, the latter was not surprising but he still didn’t trust Mr. Noseless.

Only, Harris had not the slightest idea of how to get rid of the parasite inside of Harry. 

Aside from killing him, which wasn’t an option.

He had to travel outside of the country to find books on the topic of soul magic, but so far, he had no leads.

Yet Harris was not without hope, even if he had to offer himself up as a host he would. 

As he observed this countercurse, he thought of how he might adapt this or something like this to unbind the parasite from Harry.

Maybe if he got a hold of Nagini, he could do a practice run. Because if he failed with the snake, his intention, in the end, was to kill her.

Bella thrashed in the tub, and Harris spoke with more assertion, “Shhh, Bella, you are safe, it will be over soon, you are safe.”

She let out a whimper, pulling back from him slightly. He was careful to keep hold of her arm.

“You’re safe, Cissa is here, you’re safe,” he said over and over again in variation as he led the cursed ink down her forearm.

He brushed aside those remembered horrors as best he could as he drew the poison toward the gaping hole in his soul that beckoned to the Dark Arts like a field of cat grass to a horde of kittens.

When the curse was through, the ebony ink floated above his wand, an undulating snake from the laughing skull.

Harris ignited fire from his wand, a fire that burned white, incinerating even the ash of the ink.

“Memento Mori, bastard,” Harris snarled.

 _Remember all things die_ , it was a truth he held close to his heart. Even when all the evils in the world seemed overwhelming, he reminded himself that even his enemies would die one day.

It was something he told himself when the nightmares got bad, when Voldemort, Pettiegrew, Crouch, and… Bellatrix damned Lestrange plagued him.

They were dead, he had told himself, dead and gone despite everything Voldemort had done to prevent it.

But Andromeda Tonks had unravelled the universe, had brought the dead back to life, or rather, altered their destinies.

He had known when he saw himself, preventing Cedric from grabbing the cup, that this wasn’t the type of time travel that governed the time turners.

Because he didn’t remember these changes and Harry had seen him yet this world kept turning, even if his own was little more than memory.

He also knew what he felt when Andromeda had killed herself to enact this curse, this ancient bit of archaic magic that he could spend a lifetime searching for and never find the answer to, he had felt the future unknit, the blackness consuming everything.

There was no future for Harris to return to, there was very likely no way to reverse this, and despite himself, Harris wouldn’t be able to let the world unfold as it had if he could stop it.

_If you could go back, if you could save Sirius and face Voldemort as an adult, fight the war as you are now, would you?_

Harris had never understood, not really, the sentiment of no hate was stronger than where there had once been love.

He hadn’t hated his ex-wife, not even after all the shit she’d done to him and the kids, but now?

Harris lifted Bellatrix’s limp body out of the tub, still more skeleton than woman, and he felt true loathing.

Not, oddly for the woman in his arms, who was more patient than person, but for the woman, the woman he had given his heart and life to.

He hated Andromeda Tonks, hated what she had done to him, and hated that despite the betrayal, he still mourned her death, the death of the life they had shared together.

Of the years they had to grow old with each other, of watching their grandchildren grow, and perhaps their great grandchildren, now lost to the ethos.

He laid Bella on the bed and waved his wand drying her off and dressing her in a soft cotton nightgown.

He promised himself he would give Bella a chance, that he would shelve his past nightmares of her to give her that chance.

Besides, Voldemort and Andromeda had reserved the seating for his disdain.

Despite the fact that he still loved her, would always love her.

He hoped this world’s Andromeda well, hoped Ted and Nymphadora lived long and happy lives, that this Andromeda would be unbroken and happy.

Harris also hoped never to meet her again.

* * *

Harry regretted the summer ending, however, he had never had such high hopes for the school year.

This year was going to be better than all the rest. The first time Sirius showed up in public was to bring Harry to the station. Most people gave them a wide birthe, but Harry didn’t care.

Someone was at the platform with him.

Actually, Remus was here too, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt, a guard to ensure nothing happened on the platform.

Harry was caught between excitement for the new year and homesickness for Grimmauld Place, which Sirius, Remus, and he had gone to great lengths to redecorate. The place was positively inviting, much to Kreacher’s horror.

Although, the old house-elf seemed a lot happier now, ever since Mr. Black had talked to him.

That’s what Sirius and he had started calling him, Harry because it felt strange saying a name so similar to his when the man already looked like him, and Sirius because he said his father would have loathed this oldest son taking his place when he had gone to such lengths to hide him.

Harry couldn’t imagine what the man’s life must have been like, he hadn’t even been allowed to attend Hogwarts.

“Get into loads of trouble,” Sirius told him as they came to the train.

Remus rolled his eyes, “Do try to study this year, Harry, your OWLs are coming up and the better you do, the more opportunities you will have in your future.”

Harry frowned, “I don’t even know what I want to do.”

Kingsley smiled at him, “You could always become an Auror.”

“Or become a Quidditch star!” Sirius enthused.

Remus shook his head, “You don’t have to decide now, start small, think of what types of jobs you would like and then what fields cover the most of those jobs. Then you don’t have to decide what you want to be.”

Sirius’s face sobered and he put a hand on his shoulder, “I am the last person who should say anything about waving family legacy around. But remember, Harry, we are quite well off, whatever you want to be, don’t consider what salary you could or couldn’t make. Pick what you’re passionate about, think about what will make you happy. And if you want to change careers in the future, it won’t be too late. Don’t fear, make dreams.”

Harry hugged him, his heart swelling, “I love you, Sirius.”

Sirius hugged him back fiercely, “Me too, Harry, me too.”

As they parted, a cold voice addressed Sirius, “Cousin.”

Sirius turned to the regal Mrs. Malfoy with exaggerated surprise, “Cousin?” He made a show of looking around. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “you’re talking to me? Tell me, Cissa, when is the last time you claimed me as kin?”

Harry watched Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes flick as if she caught herself from rolling her eyes. “I saw your trial, it’s nice to see you claim your own name. It seems I am not the only one considering unlocking the doors.”

Sirius’s expression twisted, “They voted for me because of Harris, not because anyone wants me in the bloodline. I’m surprised you would be ready to accept a bastard child into the family.”

Mrs. Malfoy raised an amused brow, “Our mothers were evil, I do not blame Uncle Orion for hiding a child from that woman’s inevitable wrath.”

Sirius shuddered but narrowed his eyes, “I’ve never heard you speak badly about them.”

“We haven’t spoken since we were children, Siri. We are adults now, and the war is over.”

“Is it?” Sirius asked.

She cocked her hip, her blonde hair that was partially unbound spilled over her shoulder, “I am offering you an olive branch, you brat. We need not be enemies.”

“And what does dear Lucy think about that?” Sirius challenged.

Harry, Remus, and Kingsley were watching this discussion like a tennis match.

Harry flinched at the arctic expression on Mrs. Malfoy’s face, “My husband does not own me.”

Harry had the distinct impression that Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy hadn’t had a good summer.

But he supposed he wouldn’t have either if he had had to entertain Voldemort.

Draco joined them then, “Mother, I’ve-

“Draco, do be good to your cousin this year.”

Draco frowned at her in confusion, then looked around and spotted them and all and gaped at Harry, “Mum, you can’t be-”

Mrs. Malfoy put an elegant hand on her son’s shoulder and Draco swallowed a yelp, his own expression going icy, “Fine, Potter let’s go.”

Harry didn’t move, “We aren’t cousins.”

Sirius patted Harry on the back, “You’re the new Heir of House Black, you’ll find many ‘cousins’ this year. Feel free to snub them, that’s what I did.”

“Which got him sent to Azkaban without a trial because he was a Black in name only,” Mrs. Malfoy said, “I suggest you, Mr. Potter, that if not friends, then by learning to cultivate friendly relations with the other pureblood houses, you will find more doors open to you in the future.”

“She’s not wrong,” Kingsley advised, “You can even be kind to people whose philosophies you don’t agree with.”

Harry blinked at the tall imposing man who had just told him to be kind to Death Eaters’ kids.

Sirius ruffled his hair, “You’ll figure it out, kid, just be yourself.”

Draco allowed his mother to kiss his cheek, before wishing her farewell before saying again, “Come on, Potter, we need to go.”

The train’s whistle emphasized his point.

Harry gave first Remus then a final hug to Sirius before following Draco Malfoy, of all people, onto the train.

Harry waved from the hall window as the train set off, Sirius waved to him madly until the train pulled out from sight.

“You done?” Draco asked caustically.

“You aren’t really going to be nice to me, are you?” Harry asked.

Draco crossed his arms, “My mother was a Black and she has missed having family, my father and his father didn’t have any siblings, I’m not going to ruin this for her. But by all means, walk off in a huff.”

Harry cocked his head, “No, I don’t think I will. I want to see how long you can keep this up.”

Ron was going to have an aneurysm from laughing when he heard this.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Come on, we can find a compartment and then I have to go find the other prefects.”

“Oh, you got the badge too then?” Harry asked, not knowing why he didn’t feel more bitter about that. He guessed it was hard to be bitter when he felt this happy. Honestly, his life had never been better, and even Malfoy couldn’t ruin that. “Congratulations.”

Draco gave him a sideways look over his shoulder but said, “Thanks. I’m guessing you did too then.”

“Nope, Ron and Hermione.”

Draco snorted, “Oh, I’m sure that will work out well. Because Weasley is such a role follower.”

“Says the guy who challenged me to a duel in our first year after curfew,” Harry retorted, “and then there was that whole dementor thing, and-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, but this year is going to be different.”

“Why? Because we’re cousins now, or because Voldemort is back?”

Draco spun on him, “Watch what you say,” he lowered his voice to a bare whisper, “there was a heavy price to pay for losing the war, don’t presume to know what we all went through.”

“Likewise,” Harry retorted, “And don’t think just because I’m Heir to House Black now that I won’t do everything I can to stop your Dark Lord.”

Something like fear chased through Draco’s pale eyes, and he warned, “Just remember what you stand to lose, Potter.”

“I remember my mother,” Harry said back just as quietly, “I will never forget what I have lost. It’s you who doesn’t realize that that monster will kill and torture his own just as easily as his foes. He only cares about two things, himself and power.”

Draco swallowed and looked like he wanted to hurl insults but the compartment door opened, and Blaise Zabini poked his head out, “In here, numbskulls, if you’re going to talk about family business.”

Draco let out a sigh, then gestured for Harry to go in ahead of him. Harry hesitated, looking over Blaise’s shoulder to see Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis. But aside from a few sneers and sniggers, Harry couldn’t remember having any specific incidents, and thought, what the hell, Hermione had already said they wouldn’t be able to share a compartment for long.

Theodore scootted to the other side, and Daphne said, “Beautiful owl.”

Harry smiled as he took his seat, “Thanks, she’s the best.”

Hedwig preened and gave a happy hoot.

Draco put his luggage up, “Right, see you all around.”

There was an awkward silence as Blaise sat on the other side of him.

Theodore asked, “What does the Dark Lord look like now?”

Harry raised his brow, “You believe Dumbledore?”

“His father is a Death Eater,” Daphne said coldly.

“Anything you can tell us would be helpful,” Tracey said, “Slytherin House was the first to fall under his control.”

“Tracey is muggleborn,” Blaise explained, “And the press has been useless. Fudge is a moron for not realizing how much he is helping their side by roasting Dumbledore.”

“Wait, so you don’t support him?”

Theodore glared daggers at Harry who held up his hands, “Just a question.”

Theodore growled, “We are Slytherins, we will do whatever it takes to keep ourselves and families alive.”

Harry stared at him, weighing him.

Harry had been meant to be sorted into Slytherin, and as much as he didn’t like to think the worst of Ron, Ron could be really harsh on Slytherins.

Sirius said that his cousin Andromeda had been sorted into Slytherin and not been half bad.

Harry had made a resolution with himself, that this year would be different.

How different would his life be if the Slytherins didn’t outright hate him?

So he asked, “What do you want to know?”

“What the hell happened at the Final Task?” Blaise asked.

“No,” Tracey interrupted, “start at the lake. We didn’t see anything. Honestly, for all the hype, it was a pretty boring tournament, they should have ended with the dragons.”

That made Harry laugh, and he found himself retelling his stories to people who didn’t hero-worship him, they were just peers who wanted to hear a good story and about a war brewing that could very well change all of their futures.

Harry had just gotten to the point where Harris rescued him, when Theodore, or Theo as everyone else called him, “What? Wait, you’re telling me that random guy in the stands traded spells with Voldemort unscathed?”

Harry nodded, “He blocked the Killing Curse, _multiple_ times.” Sharing stories about how epic someone else was in his family made him feel all types proud.

Maybe Mrs. Malfoy and Kingsley were right.

“That’s impossible,” Daphne said, “There is no spell that can do that.”

Harry smiled, “He used transfiguration and lifting spells to pull physical obstacles in the way.”

A long silence followed.

Blaise rubbed his eyes, “That’s so simple.”

“I’m offended that no one had the imagination to come up with that,” Daphne declared, “I’m disappointed I didn’t come up with it.”

“To everyone's credit,” Harry said, “it did make a ton of shooting rock debri, but Mr. Black is nifty with defence spells. I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as him.”

A knock came on the door then.

“Don’t answer it,” Theo said, but Tracey had already leaned over to undo the latch.

A red-haired head poked in and Ron’s face lit up as he spotted Harry, then fell into confusion as he saw who else was with him.

His face contorted into rage, “What the bloody hell are you doing here, Harry?”

Harry felt himself flush at Ron’s rude behaviour when everyone else had been so civil, if not outright friendly with him.

It made his tone sharp as he replied, “Hi, Ron, nice to see you too.”

Ron scowled at him, and nearly spat, “Slytherins? Really?”

Harry glared back, finding he didn’t like Ron being a prejudicious butt anymore than he liked it from Draco.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “Slytherins, you know, one fourth of the school’s population.”

“But they are _Slytherins_ ,” Ron intoned.

Harry was getting exasperated now, “Do you even hear yourself? You’re being rude, Ron.”

“ _I’m_ being rude?” Ron asked, “When you’re the one who ditched your friends to sit with a bunch of snakes!?” He pointed at Theo, “He’s a Death Eater.”

Theo didn’t raise his wand at the prefect, he did however flip Ron the bird.

Ron’s face went bright red, and Harry said the first thing that came to his mind before this could escalate, “First off, Theo isn’t a Death Eater and we were just talking, Ron. Let it go.”

“Let it go!?” Ron blustered, “Slytherins are-”

Harry felt everyone in the compartment, and read death in Blaise’s dark eyes, and Harry blurted a long kept secret, “I was almost sorted into Slytherin.”

Ron froze, the blood draining from his face, he opened his mouth to say something then closed it.

“Shove off, Weasel,” Draco’s voice said as he shouldered his way past the redhead and took a seat beside Tracey.

Ron looked lost for a moment, staring at them all awkwardly before his face darkened and he met Harry’s gaze and spat, “Traitor.”

Then slammed the door shut behind him.

Harry let out a low oath.

Merlin help him, he had just wanted to make a good start to the year.

Which had just backfired spectacularly. 

“Why weren’t you sorted into Slytherin?” Tracey asked.

Draco did a double take, “Wait, what? What did I miss?”

Harry jabbed a thumb at the blonde boy, “Cause of him. I told the Hat I didn’t want to be sorted into the same house as that git.”

Blaise laughed and Daphne nodded sagely, “Fair enough.”

Draco grumbled, “This is why I’m not friends with you lot.”

“Right back at you, fuzzhead,” Theo said with a smirk.

“Why did the Hat want to put you in Slytherin?” Tracy asked.

“It said I could be great and Slytherin would help me on the way to greatness. But I never wanted to be famous,” Harry said.

Draco made a derisive sound, “Yeah, right, I totally believe that.”

Harry shrugged, “Malfoy, I don’t really care what you believe. But I’m telling you that I never wanted to be famous, I would have been perfectly happy just being a normal student who was good quidditch.”

“Right,” Draco drawled, “and I’m sure your guardians told you all sorts of outrageous-”

“My guardians told me my parents were drunkards who got themselves killed and nearly me, while driving and drinking.” He pointed to the scar, “I thought this was from the wreck that killed them. It wasn’t until Hagrid I even knew magic was real.”

“What about the accidental magic?” Theo asked.

“They punished me for misbehaving me and calling me a freak.”

They all stared at him and Harry wondered why he was telling them this when he had never told this to anyone, not explicitly to even Ron and Hermione.

Maybe because they had never asked.

Ron had assumed he knew him, and only learned to hate the Dursleys because Harry so clearly did and Hermione thought she knew him from all those stupid books published about him.

“Stupid muggles,” Theo said finally.

Harry shrugged, “Prejudicious people can be horrid with or without magic.”

No one had anything to say about that.

“Anybody want to play wizarding sabacc?” Daphne asked, breaking the silence.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

Blaise chuckled, “Oh, Potter, we have so much to teach you.”

oOo

By the time Harry caught up to Hermione, it was in the Great Hall.

He took his seat beside her and Ron was on the literally other end of the table.

“Where have you been?” Hermione hissed at him, “And what’s wrong with Ron? He hasn’t said a word after saying had found you.”

Harry sighed then shook his head, “He let his big mouth get away with him, I’ll explain later. He’s just being melodramatic.”

Hermoine gave him a wary look, and Harry wondered whose side she would pick this year.

And then Harry sighed, why did there always have to be sides? Why couldn’t they just be kids and enjoy life?

Harry didn’t pay much attention to Dumbledore this time around, having a bit more than mixed feelings about the man now.

The Order of the Phoenix still respected the man, even McGonagall, who had wrote Harry a long apology letter that had meant more to him than he could have ever imagined.

To have an adult he knew and respected acknowledge that his life with the Dursleys wasn’t okay was like punching a hole in the resentments he had been building up over the years. Everyone else’s reactions had just added fuel to the fire because they _hadn’t_ done anything to free him.

But knowing that if he had gone to McGonagall instead of Dumbledore things would have been different.

Slowly but surely, Harry had a growing list of adults he could go to if things got bad again. People he was beginning to believe he could trust.

It was like a thousand worries and fears had been lifted from his shoulder.

The new DADA professor, a toad-like lady dressed in pink, interrupted Dumbledore.

Harry very quickly tuned out the obviously rehearsed speech.

He let his eyes wander the hall, Ron was deliberately not looking at him, the Weasley twins had their heads pressed together in conspiratorial mischief, and Ginny was staring at him, quickly whipping her gaze away when he spotted her.

Harry looked beyond to the Slytherin table, who, aside from the younger students, were all frowning or scowling at the new DADA.

Harry supposed he should be paying attention if they all looked that concerned, but figured Hermione would repeat the damn thing back to him verbatim during the meal and later that night.

Instead, his attention snagged on Cho Chang who smiled at him. 

He smiled back, but his attention was diverted by a girl with white blonde hair making a string of bottle caps float between her hands.

She wasn’t holding her wand.

Wandless magic?

The girl with big blue luminous eyes that were captivating even across the space between him.

She waved to him, the bottle caps orbiting her hand like a ring of Saturn or Neptune, and he gave a small wave back along with a true smile.

He wondered if he could get her to teach him how to do that.

The speech ended, apparently, for a few people clapped. Harry didn’t bother, and Hermione tugged on his sleeve as Dumbledore announced dinner was served.

Hermione asked, “Harry, did you hear what that woman said?”

He turned to her, “No? I figured you would relate anything of interest.”

She gave him an exacerbated sigh, “Really, Harry?”

He shrugged, “Come on, Hermione, how bad could it be? I really doubt Dumbledore would let a second Death Eater teach in consecutive years.”

She sighed, “When will you learn to never ask questions like that?”

He smiled, “I don’t know, call it positive thinking. Really, what’s the worse that could happen?”

But Harry looked up at the head table and some warning bell blared in his head as Dolores Umbridge focused the full weight of her beady eyes on him.

He suddenly regretted his word choices, feeling as if it was a challenge to the galaxy.

* * *

AN: Thoughts, feedback, or orcas, please?


	5. A New Life

Warning: Short chapter, but little seeds for big flowers.

Chapter 5 - A New Life

Harry was successfully holding his tongue.

His history with DA professors, Lupin included, was just too bad, he wanted to go on unnoticed and maybe he could just draw through the whole day or do homework for other classes or something.

From the book and Umbridge’s little speech, he already knew that he knew more than this class had to teach him. 

Especially as he had spent the summer with Sirius and Remus, both of whom had agreed that him learning all he could about defensive magic was vital.

Sirius and Remus were also helping him through transfiguration theory and Charm work. He had certainly corresponded a lot more Hermione over the summer. She had made him give her full notes, which had the added benefit of building and cementing his own theoretical knowledge.

He was really disappointed that they weren’t getting a real Defence class. At least Crouch Jr. had actually taught them some things.

The new Care of Magical Creatures professor, however, should be good, seeing as he had literally written the book. Hagrid was taking the year off to negotiate with giants and do some other work for the Order.

Apparently, Professor Scamander would be an official graduate as he had been expelled as a kid. Which Harry thought to be a bit unfair, seeing as Hagrid hadn’t been allowed to do the same. But then, the man was older and had fought in the war against Grindelwald.

According to the history he had learned over the summer from Remus while Sirius gave graphic and imagined details, Grindelwald had been a smarter and less inhuman (as in not obsessed with personal immortality) version of Voldemort. 

He wondered for the first time as if he would learn more being homeschooled by them instead of here at Hogwarts.

He knew he would have learned more Defense than from this hag.

Hermione was lecturing the professor about the necessity of practical magic to pass their OWLs, something Dean supported.

'Well, it's like Hemione said, isn't it?' said Dean. 'If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free.'

'I repeat,' said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, 'do you expect to be attacked during my classes?'

Harry couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing, he couldn’t help it.

Umbridge turned her beady eyes on him, and asked in a threateningly sweet voice, “And what do you think is funny about that, Mr. Potter?”

Harry shook his head, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because our last DA professor used the Imperius Curse on us and he later turned out to be an actual Death Eater and escaped convict from Azkaban. Also, our first DA professor had Voldemort stuck on the back of his head like a freakish parasite. So yeah, at this point, if I might be so bold, this class is where I expect we are most likely to be in danger.”

Umbridge stared at him and he thought her eyes might pop out of her head from rage, “But there will be no magic used in this classroom and He Who Must Not Be Named is dead.”

“Not so much,” Harry said, “Because as cute as it is that everyone thinks its the baby who done it, I am here to tell you that my mother’s spell work wasn’t enough.”

“Wait,” Draco called, “You remember? What happened that night?”

He had the entire class’s attention now, “I remember enough. My mother must have warded me somehow, because the Killing Curse didn’t take and it rebounded at Voldemort. It didn’t take well to him either, I guess. He was just hurt enough to disappear for a while.”

“So now he’s healed,” Bulstrode said, as if a long unexplained question was finally answered.

“Enough!” Umbridge yelled, “He is not back, and you are liar, Mr. Potter!”

Once upon a time, Harry would have exploded, but he could see everyone else’s faces and mattered more to him that they believed him rather than the DA Professor who worked for the ministry.

Even the Slytherins seemed convinced.

So Harry just raised a brow and flipped open his book.

Some muffled laughter went up around the room.

Sirius had been right, sometimes the greatest victories weren’t having the last word but in not being disproved in front of his peers.

Sirius had been kind of insulted that Harry hadn’t been one of the cool kids like he and his father had been.

And as he tapped his wand under the desk to replace the DA book with his transfiguration book about animagi, he let himself be pleased.

Harry didn’t need to be popular but it was nice to feel confident when he spoke up rather than angry.

Self-confidence and bravery, he was learning, weren’t unrelated but nor were they the same thing.

oOo

On their way done to Potions class, Harry spotted the blonde girl who had been using wandless magic unnoticed at the Ravenclaw table. He caught her gaze through the milling students, and Merlin, she had beautiful eyes, and he waved to her.

Pulled away in the crowd, she hopped waving to wave back to him.

Harry was smiling as he turned back to Hermione, Ron was on her other side, still not talking to him because of the incident on the train.

Hermione frowned at him, “Why are you waving at her?”

Harry shrugged, “Do you know who she is?”

“That’s Loony Lovegood.”

Harry frowned at her, “That’s rude.”

Hermione shook her head, her cheeks a bit flushed but she said, “Luna Lovegood, but everyone calls her Loony because she’s one of the strangest people in the school.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“I didn’t say it to her face,” she defended.

“Well,” he said, thinking that anyone who could do wandless magic had to have some talents, “I think she’s cool.”

She snorted, “Right, and you’re Mr. Popular.”

“Said Ms. Popular, must be Gospel,” Blaise Zabini said as he and Theo Nott passed them.

Harry bit back a laugh and Hermione glared at him.

By the time they found their seats, Hermione wasn’t talking to him any more than Ron was.

He was beginning to worry that maybe the reason they had all been such close friends was because he always played peacemaker.

Sirius’s words came back to him,  _ Being a peacemaker is overrated, you don’t want to wind up like Remus here, do you? Real friends want to know what you think and don’t want you to be afraid to challenge them. _

Remus had sighed,  _ I want to say he’s wrong, because sometimes you need a peacemaker, but had I been more honest with Sirius and James, there would never have been any mistrust or misunderstandings between us. It didn’t make them any less my friends, or I theirs, but I would have been happier if I had spoken up more. _

Sirius had snorted then,  _ Yeah, and maybe James and I wouldn’t have been such bullies. I am not blaming you, Moony, I’m just saying we cared enough about what you thought to maybe have made better choices. _

Harry sighed as he took his seat, watching as Snape walked in like a bat with legs, “Granger, Longbottom, you are partners for the year. I’ll fail you both if anything explodes this year.”

Hermione’s expression was worried and annoyed while Neville looked desperately relieved.

“Potter, pick a partner who isn’t Weasley.”

Harry looked around the room as Ron claimed the spot next to Seamus.

Meaning he was the odd man out on the Gryffindor side.

Typically, it was Parvati who partnered with Daphne, but Greengrass was sitting with Blaise.

Theo rolled his eyes at Harry and moved his bag off the seat beside him.

It was an awkward walk as Harry crossed the invisible divide between their Houses, and of course, Theo was seated near the back wall, so Harry wouldn’t even be able to listen to the whispered discussions on the Gryffindor side.

This was different than on the train, this truly felt like he was in foreign territory, in Snape’s class of all places.

But as they set into the day’s potion, there was something relaxing about not having Snape exuding intimidation and snide comments. Against the wall, Snape didn’t even bother to walk behind them, just glanced over at them every now and then.

“I could get used to this,” Harry said as Snape overlooked them again.

Theo smirked, “Perhaps you would have done better in Slytherin.”

Snape shot them a glare as if he had heard that, Blaise from the table near them, said, “Or maybe not.”

* * *

She was warm, surrounded by warmth. Her body was heavy but she felt…

She pulled the thick blanket in tighter around herself as she pressed into the softest thing she could ever remember.

She had fantasies about beds like this, but nothing compared to its reality. 

The ever-present cold in her veins had abated and she…

Bella moaned into this pillow, this was paradise.

She curled in on herself and waited for the dream to break.

She couldn’t remember the last good dream she had but she knew it couldn’t last.

Nothing good ever did.

But as time passed, the warmth stayed, as did the blankets and the bed and the scent of sheets laundered with lavender based soup.

It was peaceful.

She didn’t trust it.

But she realized that even if her sanity had slipped in its entirety, that even if she was no longer fit to serve her Lord, she wanted this feeling.

She wanted this to be real more than she had ever wished for anything.

Bella stretched her legs, and then her arms under the pillows, the coolness there feeling beautiful against her warmed skin.

Cautiously, she opened her eyes.

She blinked at the light.

But her eyes adjusted and she stared at what she saw, the wide window with white curtains, the room was painted in the palest blue with a white dream.

Cold and clean, and unlike any place she had ever lived in.

There was something comforting in that, no hint of nightmares, no dark shadows.

The exact opposite of her cell.

But the window.

She remembered that window, it brought back memories of the one gift her father and uncle had ever given her.

Her little slice of the world that belonged to her and Cissa and no one else.

Slowly shifted to the edge of the bed, expecting the window to dissolve.

But it didn’t, it stayed real and tangible.

However, when she got to the edge of the bed, she froze as she saw someone sitting in a chair.

He was reading a book, a tray of tea on the side table.

She didn’t think he was real until he turned the page of the volume he rested on a propped leg.

Bella stared at him for a long time but he never looked up at her.

It took her a long, long time to pull up the name of this man.

“James…” she managed, brokenly, “Pot.. ter?”

He looked up at her, his sapphire blue eyes were…

She couldn’t describe that look.

“Harris Black,” he said, “Head of House Black.”

Bella knew there were implications in that. That she didn’t remember this person, that she should know, that she knew all of her family yet not him.

But she was more concerned with this dream not breaking. So she said nothing more as she hesitantly got to her feet, finding she was dressed in pyjamas.

Pants and a simple button-down top, her favourite because it was the most comfortable thing she owned, but not what a man would have dressed her in.

Another proof that she was dreaming.

He didn’t move. 

She hesitated, but when Harris Black went back to reading his book, she went to the bathroom.

Her bathroom.

When the door shut behind her, she felt as she first did when she moved to this apartment.

Freedom.

Independence.

Even with a man out in the bedroom, he wasn’t her husband, or her aunt or mother.

This was her place.

She was beginning to believe she was dead.

And as she went to the shower, she thought she might be okay with that if this was indeed the other side.

She took her time.

Her hair was longer than she remembered, but the magical brush that dried her hair as she brushed ran through it cleanly.

Redressed in her pyjamas, but when she reentered the bedroom, Harris, his book, and his tea were gone.

She followed her nose to the main space.

The table set another wide window that overlooked Diagon Alley. She looked down at the street before the food.

Sometimes there were days she thought she would die in prison and never see her world again, but there they were, her people, alive and real and…

A glass was set down near her hand and she jumped.

It was brown and foamy, and only then did she see the plate of white, steaming rice.

She looked at Harris, who had sat back down across for her. He picked up his own drink, equally brown and foamy.

She picked hers up in both hands, bringing it to her lips and-

She was definitely dead because this was heaven.

A chocolate smoothie made with such a light yogurt that it didn’t make her stomach upset, as it was accustomed only to tasteless meals.

She drank it all, and then she ate until she couldn’t eat anymore.

Bella said nothing.

Harris said nothing.

And that’s how her days passed in the beautiful death.

The world was quiet, her mind was quiet, and she feared only that this life would end.

Sometimes she watched Harris.

As he cooked, as he cleaned, as he read books.

He slept on the couch.

He was a quiet man and he was sad.

She was afraid to speak to him, afraid that the sadness was born from the price of being here.

Bella let the days and nights go. She sat by the window, sat in the silence, the peace, and let the world pass her by.

The only thing that changed was the food.

It got better, more complex, and after every meal, there was always chocolate.

As an afterlife went, this wasn’t so bad.

* * *

Kingsley was just coming out of meeting with Amelia, they switched topics from the upcoming case to the Wizengamot. 

“Still, for someone who was so involved over the summer, it’s strange that he hasn’t made a single appearance. Not even a note as to why,” he was saying.

She nodded, “I almost worry that something happened to him.”

“But it was certified by Bones and Fudge, there was nothing we could do,” one auror said.

“But why!?” one of the other aurors exclaimed, causing Amelia and Kingsley come to an abrupt stop as Junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks stood her hands shaking. “She can’t be out in the public! She’s- She’s-  _ a monster!” _

Kingsley crossed his arms, “Who is a monster?”

Tonks spun round and she glared at him, not stepping down at all as she turned that fury toward Amelia, “How could you!? How dare you? What right did you hav-”

Amelia held up a hand, “What are you accusing me of?”

Tonks’ hair went to the deepest scarlet, her eyes near black, as she ground out, “You cleared Bellatrix Lestrange and let her walk free.”

Kingsley felt the blood drain from his face.

Amelia’s face went completely blank, “Lestrange is in Azkaban.”

“Not anymore!” Tonks yelled.

“Under whose authority?” Amelia demanded.

_ “Yours!” _

Amelia turned on the aurors, “Who was on duty? Who came to take her?”

Two men stepped forward, not their brightest, but Kingsley never would have thought- “The papers cleared it. I even double-checked with our copies on file. You and Fudge sealed it.”

The group went to double check, and sure enough, there it was, in fine print, the last clause, in bold easy to read lettering.

There was no possible way to have magicked it in court unless someone had invented a new spell, but even then, no magical tempering was found.

Amelia had both hands on the table as she leaned over the paperwork.

“Where is Harris Black now?”

No one had an answer.

No one had seen or heard of him since the day after the trial to free Sirius Black.

No one had seen Bellatrix Lestrange either.

Bollocks. 

* * *

AN: Thoughts, bunnies, or feedback, pretty please?  



End file.
